


And It's Coming Closer - ON HIATUS

by marcat



Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV), All Souls Trilogy - Deborah Harkness
Genre: Action, Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Family Secrets, Fantasy, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangles, Nonsense, Original Character(s), Romance, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22943662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcat/pseuds/marcat
Summary: Jack loved Roisin, that was as plain as day - her blue hair and her dark eyes and her fondness for 80s music. He’d known it for years but never admitted it, tried not to even acknowledged his attachment to her.Because he hated her, too. She was a physical reminder of all his failings: the senseless killing, the weakness, his inability to care for either himself or anyone else. Things he wanted to forget.Jack is reunited with the "daughter" he thought to be dead.Meanwhile, Matthew and Diana's surviving enemies slowly emerge from the woodwork.(Not my best work, but it's fluffy)
Relationships: Diana Bishop/Matthew Clairmont, jack blackfriars/OC
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I just read the All Souls Trilogy and it's amazing. I'm still working through Time's Convert so this may not be 100% canon but I don't really care. 
> 
> Based on the song Closer by Kings of Leon

This was so unlike her, Roisin thought as the relative stranger pressed her against the wall of his apartment. 

Six days a week, she was the mild-mannered au pair who couldn’t be bothered with heels or a hairbrush. Tonight, for some reason, she decided to change things up.

The stranger’s skin was weirdly cold but he was a good kisser and properly fit. He was six-foot-two with broad shoulders and long limbs and medium blond hair. He said his name was Jack but she didn’t know his last name. She didn’t really care.

He first noticed her blue hair from across the bar. He drew a picture of her on a napkin and wrote his mobile number underneath. They drank gin and tonics and threw up bar nuts that they tried to catch in their mouths. Jack got them every time. 

Roisin knotted her fingers in his hair as his mouth traveled down to her neck. His tongue flicked out and he ran the tip along her throat. Roisin let loose a ragged gasp and unconsciously bucked her hips toward him. 

He slipped his hand under her dress and pushed her painties off to one side. He kept kissing her neck. At first, Roisin was too lost in her haze of pleasure to realize something was wrong. She felt his teeth sink into her neck, though she didn’t notice that he drew blood. Not until he tugged her head back and took a chunk out of her.

Roisin scratched at him so hard that broke her freshly-painted nails. But it did nothing. She was weak and cold and it was dark, and she hardly felt it when he let her slide to the floor.

She was strangely calm. She knew that she was about to die here, but that was okay. She could live with that - well, not live with it, since she wouldn't be living much longer, but it was all right.

Her murderer, strangely, was more upset than she was.

He was on his knees beside her, holding her face and turning her head and trying to get her attention. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Fuck.” The girl’s eyes were closing; she was about to die, he  _ knew _ she was about to die. 

The paper napkin he gave her lay beside her on the floor with the other contents of her upturned handbag, soaked through with blood. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He didn’t mean to hurt the girl, he didn’t even mean to bite her, he just  _ wanted _ her, but hunger and lust were all caught up together and when his lips made contact with her neck he couldn’t tell the two apart. 

There was a peppermint beside her. It had fallen from her bag. There was a pack of cigarettes, too, and a pink lighter. Lip balm, mascara, a used tissue. This was a person, a real person with a real life and he took that away from her. 

“Oh, God.”

Jack did the only thing he could think of: He tore his wrist open with his teeth and let his blood fall into her open mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

“Careful!”

“It’s just a stroller, Mum, I’ve got it.” Jack lifted the two-seated stroller over his head and carried it down the front steps of Clairmont House. Matthew and I follow behind at a glacial pace, each wrangling an overly-energetic child. “What did you say you were doing?” Jack asked as Matthew lifted the children into the stroller. “Mummy and me?”

There were many family-friendly activities in London, but it seemed Matthew and I had exhausted them all. The plan, as far as I knew it, was to set up camp in the park somewhere and pray the children would be so excited about the fresh air and sunshine that they might let me and Matthew enjoy a picnic in relative peace.

“We’re no longer welcome at ‘mummy and me,’” Matthew said. “Not since Apollo bit that other -”

“ _ Jack _ !” 

A cry cut through all the hustle and bustle of the city. We all turned our heads toward the sound, the origin of which was a young woman with an oversized jean jacket and waist-length blue hair. Her eyes never wavered from Jack, but I could tell without the familiar chill that accompanies a vampire’s gaze that she was no warmblood. 

“Jack!” She darted across the street with preternatural speed, nearly knocking over a pair of cyclists, as Jack's eyes slowly grew wide and blackened. He moved in front of me and the stroller to protect us from this new threat. Matthew moved forward, too.

The girl threw herself into Jack with such force that she nearly knocked him over. She clung to his neck, feet off the ground, and began to cry.

Jack remained eerily still for a moment as his mind tried to make sense of this strange turn of events. He breathed in through his nose and everything seemed to fall into place. “Roisin?”

He forcefully gathered the girl’s shaking body into his arms, holding her as close as he possibly could. “Roisin.” He buried his face in her neck as he too falls into tears. 

Her face was smeared with blood tears and running eyeliner when she pulled her face out of Jack’s shirt. “Jack,” she said again.

He searched her eyes, his own were flashing with rage and his effort to keep it in check. “Is this real?” he whispered to himself.

“Let’s get inside,” Matthew said quietly. Roisin’s gruesome face and teal tresses were already drawing attention.

Jack didn’t loosen his grip on Roisin. He ended up carrying her into the house. Matthew and I had no choice but to follow them back inside.

The children were uncharacteristically quiet as we made our way into the sitting room. Jack’s episodes were rare these days and Philip and Becca were never nearby when they came on, but they knew that something was off with their older brother. 

Jack and Roisin plopped down on one of the couches; Matthew and I sat opposite them. 

It seemed there were always a dozen people in my house but somehow there was never anyone to help me with the kids at times like this. They weren’t acting up yet, but if history was any indication, it would only be a matter of moments before objects started flying.

“Jack, honey?” I asked gently. “Who is this?”

“Roisin,” Matthew said softly. “She’s Jack’s progeny.”

I opened my mouth to ask how Matthew knew who she was and what the word  _ progeny _ meant in the vampiric lexicon, only to close it an instant later. Jack must’ve drawn her before, god knows how many times, and Matthew must have seen it. Jack usually let me look at his work, but he kept me far away from the dark images, the disturbing things that flowed out of his memory and onto paper. Only Matthew and the other men of our family were allowed to see them. With good reason.

_ “And my daughter. My daughter. They-” _

“You’re Jack’s daughter,” I gasped. 

Jack’s children were stolen from him by Benjamin and, according to Jack, suffered fates worse than death. The ancient, enraged vampire murdered one of the children, and I knew that unspeakable things happened to the other. I never heard any more of it than that and I didn’t want to.

“I thought they killed -” Jack choked on a sob. “I wouldn’t have left you if I knew you were still . . .” He pushed her hair from her face. “How did you get away from them?”

I wove a quick but strong sleeping spell; Philip and Rebecca were soon dead to the world. I had a rule about not using magic to make my children behave how I wanted them to, but this seemed as good a time as any. Their familiars - disguised as dogs - also laid down for an impromptu nap.

“They let me go,” Roisin said, voice thick with tears. She mustered up a smile. “I was no fun anymore.”

Jack started crying again and gathered her into his arms once more. “Roisin, I’m sorry.”

At six-foot-two, Jack was tall by any standard. But he was nearly a foot taller than Roisin, which made him look even larger.

Roisin squirmed until Jack unlocked his iron grip. She wiped her nose with the back of her wrist and tried to smile at me and Matthew. “Hi. I’m sorry I caught you off-guard. You’re Master and Mistress Roydon.”

“Just call us Matthew and Diana,” my husband said. He seemed friendly, open, and relaxed, three words not generally associated with the self-appointed sour puss of the de Clermont family. “There’s no need for such formality among family.”

Roisin nodded and wiped at her face. “I’m Roisin. I’m sorry, I’m just bleeding all over the place -”

“Not at all,” I said, producing a packet of baby wipes from my pocket.

She took them gratefully, careful not to touch me. Jack took a few wipes from the pack and set about helping her. He gently swiped across Roisin’s creamy skin with the same attention he gave to his most delicate paintings; his hands stopped trembling. He was too focused on his daughter to think of anything else - his progeny, rather, to use the term Matthew had.

Matthew went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. Roisin kept her eyes downcast in submission as she took the cup from Matthew’s hands. She was  _ afraid _ of him. And who could blame her? This was the man who sired Benjamin.

“How did you know where to find us?” I finally asked.

She was much more relaxed when she addressed me. “Gallowglass told me.”

My heart thudded once. “Gallowglass?” 

Matthew’s nephew had been missing in action on and off since before I gave birth. I hoped he would move past his feelings for me and come back to his family, including his young cousins. 

Roisin nodded. “He had a tattoo that looked like you and your dragon; it was just like the pictures Jack drew of you.” The musical cadence of her brogue told me she was from somewhere in the Irish Republic other than Dublin. She looked like a typical student at a British university, though, with her blue hair and youthful clothing. “I wasn’t sure who he was until he started talking and I heard his accent. Then I recognized him from Jack’s stories. He helped me find you.”

“And where is he now?” I tried to sound casual and failed marvelously.

Roisin’s eyes shifted nervously. “I don’t think he’d want me to say exactly where.”

I nod. “Have you been looking for Jack for long?”

She shook her head, making waves in her already oceanic hair. “Just after I heard about Benjamin. I haven’t been back to Europe since I got away from him and his kids.” 

Roisin wasn’t upset when she talked about Benjamin and her time as his captive. Jack, on the other hand, clenched his jaw so hard I worried he might crack his teeth.

“I went to Peru and New Zealand and South Africa at first - the farthest places I could think of to go.”

That was probably Gallowglass’s thought process as well, only he was trying to get away from me.

*

Jack insists that Roisin stay in his room. Vampires don’t usually need to sleep, but fits of emotion are draining for anyone. That often worked in my favor when one of the twins had a meltdown. Roisin was certainly on the edge of collapse.

Jack prepared the room himself with the fluffiest pillows and blankets in the house and hurried to clean the bathroom. He asked to borrow some of my bath supplies - the eucalyptus-scented salts that Matthew bought me in Paris, my extreme-strength detangling conditioner, and most importantly, my face wash. 

Matthew volunteered to help him, and Roisin and I were left alone in the sitting room with the kids who were now wide awake.

“Blue, blue!” Philip declared, pointing a chubby finger at our guest. “Hair is blue!”

“Why?” Becca asked, cocking her head to the side.

“I ate too many blueberries,” Roisin said deviously. “Once I ate too many carrots and my hair turned bright orange.”

“Oh no!” Philip said. “Horsie eats carrots! Horsie turns orange!”

“What do you eat?”

“Oatmeal!” Philip sounded horrified by the prospect that his hair might turn the brownish-pink of his favorite breakfast, which included a healthy dash of blood.

Roisin pretended to think for a moment. “You’ll have to eat vegetables, then, if you want to keep your hair color. Green and yellow ones.” She turned to me for my opinion. “Don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes,” I said. 

Philip frowned.

“They like you,” I said once they turned their attention to their precious wooden blocks.

“I like them. I’ve always liked kids - babies especially. I was an au pair in Berlin for almost a year before, uh, all this. And I babysat for all the professors at NUI Galway growing up.” 

“You’re from Ireland originally?”

She grins. “What gave it away?” We chuckled. “Thanks for putting me up tonight. It’ll be nice to sleep in a real house.”

I set my hand over hers. “It’s our pleasure.” I struggled for a moment to find the words that would properly convey my feelings to this young woman who had surely suffered more than anyone could bear. 

Jack got violently sick when he first told us about his life with Benjamin and the terrible toll he exacted before he released Jack. He never did tell us exactly what happened, but I was confident that both of Jack’s children were dead. So was he, it seemed, until an hour ago. 

“I’m very happy to meet you,” I finally said.

She smiled. “Me too.”

She looked so heartbreakingly normal. Just a regular twentysomething visiting her friend on holiday. And she was  _ young _ . Physically, she couldn’t be older than 23; she’d been a vampire for maybe two or three years. She was Phoebe’s age, but Phoebe had plenty of people to guide her through her transition. Roisin had a madman.

I cleared my throat to snap myself out of my daze. “Well, I suppose I should tell you about the kids. They’re . . . special.”

*

Jack was dangerously close to having an episode, Matthew thought. He was both hyper focused and frantic as he prepared his bedroom and bathroom for Roisin. He folded the towels just so before arranging them neatly on the racks. He carried in a wooden stool from his bedroom and arranged it beside the freestanding bathtub at the center of the bathroom. He stacked bath salts, a washcloth, lavender soap, and a glass of cool water on top. He mumbled something about a lack of candied almonds before laying out an old tee and a pair of elastic-waisted shorts on the end of his bed for Roisin to change into when she was done in the bath.

Roisin could only fit a handful of clothing into her worn backpack, all of which were now in the laundry. Most of the space was taken up by spare underwear, basic toiletries, a range of makeup, a wealth of nail polish from Dior and Barry M, and a massive soup thermos filled with blood. 

Matthew didn’t offer to help set things up; Jack would certainly say no, if he responded at all. He leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, arms crossed, as Jack slipped back and forth between rooms. He disappeared into the hallway and returned with a small record player and a crate full of 70s and 80s albums. He set them down on the floor beneath his bedroom window and pulled an old copy of _ Songs from the Big Chair _ . He reverently prepared the disc in the record player; all Roisin would have to do was hit  _ play _ .

Matthew finally interrupted his son when he seemed done with his preparations. “Just breathe, Jack. Try to relax. You and Roisin are under my roof. No one comes or goes without my knowing about it. You’re both safe here.”

*

Roisin thought of putting on one of the records Jack had laid out for her before getting in the bath but decided against it. A little peace and quiet was what she needed now.

She ran the water as hot as she could stand it before climbing in. She sank down in the tub and blew bubbles for a while. Her mobile was crammed onto the overcrowded stool between the bath salts and glass of water. There was a jar of peanut butter and a plastic spoon, too.

She took the peanut butter jar and shook the excess water off of her hand before texting Gallowglass.

_ Made it to Clairmont House. Everyone is fine _ .

Three dots appeared at the bottom of the screen as Gallowglass typed a reply, but they soon vanished.

_ She’s worried about you _ . 

No reply.

She set the phone back down and sank under the water. Her hair floated around in blue tendrils reminiscent of seaweed. Perhaps she’d dye it green next.

From what Gallowglass told her about the de Clermonts, Roisin was surprised there wasn’t an ancient bottle of wine set out for her in some thin crystal glass. Gallowglass skirted around the word  _ pretentious _ when describing his relatives, though Roisin suspected it was on the tip of his tongue.

But pretentious or not, they were Jack’s idols, his saviors. They were important to him. They should be important to her, too.

Jack and his sire, Father Hubbard, were so close - at least, they were when she met him shortly after becoming a vampire. She wanted something similar to that. Jack was outgoing and fun, and there was a relative army of people he called his friends.

Roisin used to have lots of friends when she was human. After Jack turned her, her only companion was Max, a massive American that Jack made a vampire roughly a year before. But he was dead now, and there was nowhere else for her to go.

She slid down into the tub and dropped a big scoop of peanut butter into her mouth.

*

I lay against Matthew’s bare chest as he stroked my hair and ran his fingers over my shoulder. 

“How did you know who she was?” I asked eventually. “You knew Roisin right away. How? Did Jack draw her?”

Matthew couldn’t meet my eyes. “Yes, he did. But that’s not how I recognized her.” He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Benjamin kept videotapes of everything that went on in that room. He showed me the tape he made the night Jack said he wanted to leave.”

“Oh, Matthew,” I whispered.

Benjamin made him watch a recording of him murdering Jack’s son and Benjamin’s own sons and grandsons brutalizing Roisin. No wonder he was being so soft with her.

I shut my mind against the terrible images that began to take shape. Matthew held me tighter.

*

Jack paced around the hallway while Roisin cleaned up and waited outside the bedroom door until she put on the makeshift nightclothes Jack had provided.

“You can come in now,” she called softly.

Cautiously and quietly, Jack pushed the door open. Roisin sat cross-legged at the bottom of his bed. Her hair was pulled into a big, loose bun. All her makeup was gone. She looked like the wonderstruck young woman he met in Berlin four years ago. Before he turned her. Before Benjamin and his sons even knew she was alive.

Before he took her life away.

“Thank you for giving me your room.”

Jack leaned against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. “Course. I always get nervous sleeping someplace I don’t know. I thought this might be more comfortable.”

“It is. Thanks.”

He took a step into the room, and when Ro didn’t object, he took another. He stayed as far off as he could when he handed her the little pillow. She set her peanut butter on the ground. Lobero immediately stuck his nose in the jar. “My mum made that for me. It’s a charm to keep bad dreams away. My brother and sister have ‘em, too.” Roisin held the object up to study it. “It works real well. I ain’t had a single nightmare since she gave it to me.” 

Roisin smiled at the pillow, turning it over in her hands. “It’s nice to have a witch for a mum.” She managed a smile. “Maybe she can make one for me.”

God knows she needed it. Even before Benjamin’s sons murdered Max and attacked her, she suffered under Benjamin and his brood. She was the only girl among a dozen volatile male vampires. Benjamin’s sons never forced themselves on her, not until the end, but they said and did things that poisoned her sleep.

But she was a good fighter and Max looked after her. He was her brother, Jack’s only other child, and he was unhappy with Benjamin, too. Benjamin himself was by no means her champion, but he kept his sons at bay. For a time.

Max would push Roisin behind him as he squared off with one or more of their uncles or cousins for saying or doing something that went too far. Roisin once opened her youngest cousin’s throat by scratching him when he put her hands on her hips. 

The cousin went into a rage, which triggered both his father and Max. Somebody would’ve died if Benjamin and Vasiliy hadn’t stepped in.

Roisin might have been an inferior being to Benjamin and his sons, some stupid little girl without the divine gift of blood rage, but she was fiesty. 

Benjamin liked that about her, and he always stepped in before the fights got out of hand.

“ _ Now, now, gentlemen _ ,” he’d say. “ _ Roisin is our guest _ .”

Benjamin never touched her, except the time he bit her for misbehaving. He picked Max apart for hours on end while she and Jack watched. When that was done, Benjamin gave them permission to do as they liked with Roisin; he decided to refrain from the festivities. The sons and grandsons traded off holding Jack down so they could each take turns with his daughter.

They’d like to keep her for a while, they said when they eventually released Jack. He was welcome to whatever was left when they were finished.

Roisin pushed the thought from her head by taking a sniff of the charm in her hands. She didn’t know the names of the herbs and flowers within it, but she liked the way they smelled. “Diana invented this?”

Jack nodded and cleared his throat. “Just call out if you need anything.” He moved for the door.

“Jack, I really don’t mind staying at Gallowglass’s,” Roisin blurted. She did, of course, at least her first night in London, but a disagreement might keep him a bit longer.

“I mind,” Jack said. “You could always let the dog have it.” He nodded at the living mop beside him. “Lobero usually takes the bed anyway. He doesn’t like sleeping alone, though, so he might make you keep him company.”

*

I woke in the dead of night to the sound of tears. Jack.

My maternal instincts screamed at me to go comfort him. I was about to slip out of bed when I heard his hushed conversation with my husband.

“I left her there twice. First I let Benjamin take her and Max from me after I made them and then I - I  _ let _ them touch her, I just ran off and left her there -”

“It’s not your fault, Jack,” Matthew said. 

“It is!” he insists. “I made her. She’s my daughter, ain’t she? I’m s’posed to protect her.”

I could practically hear Matthew shaking his head. “Jack -”

“You would’ve died before you let somebody touch Becca like that. And you wouldn’t have left her behind if she was still -”

“Enough.” There was a pause. Matthew’s voice was gentler now. “It’s over. Benjamin and his sons are dead and Roisin is safe. And I don’t think she’d be happy to hear you call her your daughter.”

Jack stifled a little laugh. “How many of his sons did you get?” he suddenly asked.

“Seven or eight,” Matthew said. “I’m not sure.”

“There’s more than that. His sons and his grandsons,” Jack said. I felt the sting of a dozen sharp icicles digging into my spine.

“There’s more than that.”


	3. Chapter 3

_ They danced together at a nightclub in Berlin and shared gin and tonics, and just before dawn, they left to go back to Jack’s shithole of an apartment. _

_ Roisin was dead in under an hour. She came back to life just as the sun peeked out over the tops of the buildings.  _

_ Someone pressed something warm to her lips and told her to drink. She did.  _

_ She saw terrible things, but they all happened in a version of Europe that didn’t exist. It was like someone was playing a costume drama in her mind and she couldn’t turn it off. And she was seeing it through someone else’s eyes - a little boys. _

_ She clung to the few bright spots she could find. An enormous Scottish man with a big smile scooped the little boy into his arms. A French servant pointing at different landmarks. A dark-haired man held the boy against him after a terrible nightmare. The strongest memory was of a young woman called Mistress Roydon. The boy’s mother. _

  
  


_ Roisin didn’t remember much of what happened in the following days. She had been too overwhelmed to forge thoughts.  _

_ She knew that she attacked Jack the moment she was strong enough to stand up.  _

_ “What did you do to me?!” she shrieked, clutching at her neck. She was still covered in blood but the bite mark had already scabbed over. _

_ “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Jack squatted down to make himself as small and nonthreatening as possible. His cheeks were streaked with watery blood as though his eyes were bleeding. “I’m sorry.” _

_ “What did you do?!” _

_ “I didn’t touch you,” he assured her. “I - I bit you and then - I lost control but I tried to fix it. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” _

_ She lunged at him in a blind rage, shrieking and clawing and biting. He pinned her against the wall as he had last night to keep her from hurting him, though her stomach was pressed against the wall this time. Jack just kept saying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” _

*

Spending time with Leonard always improved Jack’s mood. They could act their age together - be twenty-year-old boys, not centuries-old vampires. 

Leonard picked his friend up at Clairmont House less than an hour after he broke down in front of his father. Matthew and Diana gave Leonard free range over the cars in their collection. He liked the big cars best, Range Rovers in particular. He called them American muscle cars because, at least in Leonard’s mind, everyone in the states drove some sort of behemoth that would swallow the narrow European roadways whole while reminding others of the driver’s physical prowess.

Jack climbed into the car and sighed heavily. He leaned his elbow on the door handle and rubbed his forehead.

“Music?” Leonard asked.

“Anything but Bach,” Jack replied. “Or 80s.”

His friend smiled wickedly and punched a button on the dashboard.

_ You used to call me on my -  _

_ You used to, you used to... _

He nodded at the controls. “Eh? Drake?”

Jack managed a small laugh. “Fine.” 

Leonard took to hip hop and rap like a bird to the wind and played it every chance he got. It horrified Father Hubbard, who practically crossed himself anytime he heard a vulgar word.

“I could always change to Kanye,” Leonard said as he pulled away from the curb. “His new stuff’s a bit weird but I think it’s worth listening to at least once.”

“Drake is fine.” Jack rolled down his window, shut his eyes, and leaned back against the headrest. The wind whipped his unkempt blond hair around his face, leaving a small sting where they smacked against his skin.

They drove in silence until the next song came on. Leonard felt it was an appropriate time to address the elephant in the room. “So your daughter?”

“She’s not my daughter, really,” Jack muttered. He didn’t want whatever it was they were to sound incestuous. 

“All right, your progeny, then. What happened?”

“She showed up out of nowhere, right in front of my parents’ house. She looks just the same.” Jack’s voice rose with emotion. “Her hair’s a different shade of blue, but she was otherwise just the same.”

“She’s got blue hair?” Leonard scoffed. “Does she go to university in Scotland?”

Jack glared daggers at him, even though he knew Leonard was only trying to keep Jack from getting too upset.

“How’d she know where to find you?”

“Gallowglass told her.”

“That’s the one who’s in love with your mum, yeah?” The de Clermont family was riddled with drama and Leonard had trouble keeping track of it all. The most important bit, in his opinion, was the uncle who tried to have Jack killed.

Jack nodded. “Roisin met him but she won’t say where. Guess they’re friends now.”

Leonard frowned and turned down the music, though the vampires had no trouble hearing each other over it. “What do your parents say?”

“This ain’t the sort of thing you share with your mum,” Jack replied. “My dad just keeps saying it’s not my fault.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Leonard said pointedly. “What about Father Hubbard?”

“I haven’t told him yet.” 

Roisin was hard to upset, but she despised Hubbard from the moment she met him. She nearly bit him in a newborn rage. Max and Jack had hardly been able to stop her.

“He’s probably the best person to talk to about it,” Leonard said. “He knew Benjamin better than anybody. He knows Roisin, too, doesn’t he?”

“That almost makes it harder.”

“I don’t suppose you’re willing to talk to your daughter? Progeny,” Leonard amended when Jack gave him a look.

“I can’t even look her in the eye.”

Leonard frowned thoughtfully. “Talk to Father H. Or get properly drunk. Maybe both.”

Jack smiled. “You should be a shrink.”

*

Roisin’s sleep was deep and dreamless but it only lasted a few hours.

She awoke when a new weight shifted the mattress. Suddenly there was someone behind her. They were breathing so loudly - 

Roisin turned halfway and whacked the intruder out of her bed. She scrambled to her feet and took up a defensive position against the wall. Lobero went flying from the mattress and fell in a heap on the floor. He whimpered.

Roisin felt her throat begin to close. “Oh, no.”

A male vampire came flying in, his eyes wide. “What happened? Roisin, are you all right?”

Roisin’s mind went blank as fight or flight kicked in. She would be no match for him in a fight, but he blocked the only exit. She could jump from the window. It was only three stories and she’d heal quickly . . .

Matthew went totally still when he smelled the adrenaline flood Roisin’s system as she prepared for a fight. He held his arms out wide and crouched low the way Jack sometimes did when he wanted to look non threatening. “It’s all right.”

Jack entered just as he heard her gasp. “Roisin!” The front door slammed shut. 

He climbed the stairs in an instant. He was soaked from the constant London rain; he left a path of water in his wake. He first saw his father crouched by the doorway, then his dog pulling himself to his feet, and finally, his progeny.

Her eyes were wide, nostrils flared, teeth bared in preparation for a fight.

Jack panted for breath. “What’s wrong?”

Roisin’s muscles started to unlock. “The dog,” she managed. “He jumped on the bed. I thought -” Her breath hitched in her throat.

“It’s all right.” Jack slowly advanced across the room. He stopped beside the bed and held his hand out for her to take. She looked back and forth from his hand to his face. “It’s all right,” he said again.

Roisin cautiously took his hand. He led her slowly through the halls and down to the kitchen at the back of the house.

“Do you want tea?” Jack asked.

Matthew wiped down the staircase with paper towels while his son made tea for their guest. It was still an hour before dawn, and Diana and the children were fast asleep. 

He was impressed with his son’s calm and control. Under other circumstances, Jack’s eyes might have blackened with blood rage, but when Roisin was upset, just like when his younger siblings were, he kept a clear head. His episodes were few and far between these days.

“Here. Take your pick.” Jack dumped ten different tea varieties onto the counter before Roisin. “My mum likes tea,” he said by way of explanation.

Roisin sniffed them before settling on a vanilla-chamomile blend that she used to drink when she was sick as a child. Jack flipped on the kettle and put the other bags away. “I’m sorry I hurt your dog.”

Jack offered a smile. “You didn’t mean to. ‘Sides, I should’ve told him to stay outside the room.”

“I’m sorry I freaked out your father, too.” Roisin tied little knots in the thread that connected the teabag to its tag. “I don’t really spend time with male vampires.”

“He understands,” Jack said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I thought you were friends with Gallowglass. He’s a male vampire.”

“He’s different. I remembered him from when I drank your blood and saw your life. But it took a while before we were friends.” Roisin frowned as Jack put a mug of hot water before her. “I stabbed him the first time we met.”

Jack burst out in laughter. “You did what? How did you manage that?”

Roisin bit her lip both in flirtation and anxiety. “I came on too strong, I think. I asked about Master and Mistress Roydon . . . It’s not his fault he got defensive. He had every right to be. I just couldn’t think. He got too close.” She shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said softly. He had a hundred thousand apologies in his chest squirming to get out, but he bit them back. Now wasn’t the time to beg her for forgiveness on his hands and knees.

She put on a smile. “Your father must think I'm absolutely mental.”

“Nah. I’m the mental one ‘round here.”

Roisin stared into her tea mug but didn’t drink. There was a long silence. 

“Why are you here?” he finally asked. His voice was quiet and he couldn’t meet her eyes. “We haven’t got any happy memories together. I don’t understand.”

“You want me to go.” Roisin pushed her mug away and started to stand. 

“I didn’t say that,” Jack said insistently, catching her hands. “I said I didn’t understand.” He released his grip on her when he saw the look in her eyes. 

“I don’t want you to go,” Jack murmured when he couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “You . . .” he struggled to find the right words. “Stay.”

*

Matthew and I decided to let things be for the time being. Domenico and Gerbert were staying in line and Benjamin’s sons, if they were still alive, hadn’t made themselves known. Initiating a manhunt was too much. Jack was still anxious but he didn’t say anything against it.

It was three days since Roisin’s arrival and Jack was doing his best not to smother her. He didn’t object when she brought her few belongings over to Pickering Place the night before, mostly because he knew we didn’t have the space for a house guest. Claremont House was full to bursting with vampires, servants, dogs, familiars, witches, and rambunctious toddlers. 

Matthew would’ve prefered Roisin to stay with us; his protective instincts were running rampant now that I was pregnant again. He got upset when I teased him about it the afternoon before she left, since I was usually the one who tried to take responsibility for strangers.

“Would you rather cast her off and let her work through her trauma on her own?” He cut me off before I could protest. “She is Jack’s progeny. We are as responsible for her as we are for him.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You feel guilty.” Matthew scoffed and walked deeper into his office. I followed. “You can’t blame yourself for everything Benjamin did just because you made him a vampire.”

“I knew better!” he snarled.

I stepped closer to him and put my hand on his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. “It’s over, Matthew. Benjamin did terrible things, but he’s gone now. Roisin is trying to move on but she can’t do that if you and Jack run around chanting  _ mea culpa _ and treat her like a lost little girl.”

I kept my voice low, even though there was little chance of us being overheard through the thick walls, especially while Jack and the twins were screeching along to the music from  _ Frozen _ . Jack had a pleasant, quiet singing voice, but that was no fun for a singalong. 

“ _ Let it go! Let it gOoOoOo! _ ” Jack belted, his voice cracking as he purposely failed to hit a high note. 

Apollo screeched in delight. 

Matthew looked over my shoulder at the door, a soft smile on his face. 

“It’s over,” I said again. Matthew turned his face to kiss my palm.

*

Jack was in good spirits at breakfast the next morning. Watching his younger siblings destroy the kitchen was always fun.

“Morning,” I said brightly. I kissed each child on the top of the head.

“There’s eggs on the stove,” Jack said. 

I peered into the twins’ bowls. Scrambled eggs with a smattering of what looked like hot sauce but I knew was blood. Blood didn’t bother me, not since I married Matthew, but pregnancy weakened my constitution.

I tried not to gag.

Jack was on his feet in a flash. “Mum? Are you all right? Is it the baby? Here, sit down.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine, Jack. Just a little nauseous. Nothing to worry about.”

Philip’s bowl clattered to the floor. “Where’s Rosie?” he demanded. He was absolutely infatuated with our house guest, particularly her hair, and spent most of the last few days trying to get her attention.

“ _ Row _ -sheen decided to stay in her own flat,” I said, emphasising the pronunciation of her name.

Philip creased his eyebrows in concentration. “ _ Ro _ -zee.” 

“Rosie! Rosie!” Apollo repeated.

I smiled at my youngest son. “We’ll practice.” I went to fill the kettle with water, but Jack sat me back down and filled it himself. He and Matthew tried to do everything for me now that I was pregnant, Jack especially. 

The whole thing fascinated him, and he was fiercely protective over his younger siblings. He liked having people to look after; all vampires did. It was especially important to Jack, though. It gave him a purpose, an anchor to cling to when the storms raged inside him.

“What’s your plan today?” Jack asked as he set out the sugar and milk.

“I don’t really have one. Maybe I’ll exercise a bit.”

“No exercise!” Becca declared. She flung a spoonful of eggs at the refrigerator to punctuate her declaration.

Jack grinned. “That’s right, Princess. You tell her.”

“What about you?” I asked.

Jack turned his back to me as he poured my tea. “Dunno. Might see Father H.”

“That would be nice. Would you introduce him to Roisin?”

“They met before,” he said darkly. The discussion ended.

*

The house at Pickering Place was enormous by Roisin’s standards. She grew up sharing a bedroom with her grandmother, and though they got on famously - Gran had a wicked sense of humour and biting wit - it was not an ideal sleeping arrangement. At the house in Berlin, she occupied a maid’s room barely big enough to fit both a wardrobe and a twin bed. 

This was incredible. And for the time being, it was all hers. 

The first thing she did was use the least-fancy bathroom to bleach her roots and dunk her head in a mixture of dyes that gave her greenish-blue locks that no one else would be able to achieve, not that anyone was looking to even dye their hair blue.

She couldn’t find a record player but there were speakers throughout the house that blasted Hall & Oates as Roisin danced between rooms. She fixed herself a gin and tonic; she couldn’t get drunk off of it but she liked the familiar ritual.

_ You’re a rich girl, and you’ve gone too far _

_ Cause you know it don’t matter anyway _

There was something so wonderful about being alone sometimes.

_ You can rely on the old man’s money _

_ You can rely on the old - _

The music abruptly stopped when Roisin’s phone started to ring. “ _ Call from - Gallowglass _ ,” the robotic voice announced as digital bells trilled in the background.

She went flying for her mobile, which was in the kitchen. She was washing the remaining dye from her hair and had to scramble to pull it up for fear of dripping paint across the floor.

Roisin smashed the green  _ answer _ button below the image of the Scottish flag that served as his contact photo. “Gallowglass!”

She could practically hear the smile in his voice when he replied. “All right, Roisin?”

“Yes.” She turned off the bluetooth so his voice didn’t echo around the house. “Hang on, let me bring my mobile into the bathroom.”

“Please don’t talk to me while you’re taking a shit; it makes me very uncomfortable,” said Gallowglass.

“I’m not shitting. I’m dyeing my hair.”

“Blue again?”

“Of course.”

“Of course,” he repeated. “Am I on speaker phone?”

“Yes - but I’m alone at Pickering Place. No one’s listening.”

“Good.” There was a long silence. “How are you? How’s Jack?”

“I think he wants me to leave, but he won’t say so.”

“I doubt that. He ought to be thrilled to see you.”

“I dunno.” Roisin wrung out the remaining water from her hair onto the shower floor before cleaning the dye from the bathroom’s sink and floor. “I don’t think I’ll stay very long. London’s too expensive, anyway, and I haven’t got a job.”

“Auntie and Matthew would help you find something.”

Roisin wrinkled her nose at Gallowglass’s title for Diana. He shouldn’t be emphasising the familial bond between him and the woman he pined after. It seemed incestuous. Maybe that was the point, though - maybe Gallowglass was reminding himself that his feelings were improper.

“You know I don’t like asking for favors. I don’t want to be in anybody’s debt.” Roisin began anxiously picking at her already-chipped nail polish.

“You won’t be.”

“I did what I came here to do. Jack knows I’m alive and I know that he is, too.” She started talking faster as she listed off reasons not to stay. “And the weather here is shit; I’m used to California sun now. I don’t think I can go back to the damp.”

“Who says I want you living in my flat again?” Gallowglass said. “If I have to watch any more of your Bravo reality shit, I’ll break the damn TV.”

“You like  _ Below Deck _ ,” Ro said defensively. 

“I like  _ Below Deck Mediterranean _ ,” he said. “There’s a difference.”

“My mistake.”

He sighed through the phone. “Just hang around London for another week, all right? Then you have my blessing to come back here and watch crap. None of the California _Real_ _Housewives_ , though. Only New York and Jersey. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“By the way, I hate this season of  _ the Bachelor _ . Pete’s a weiner.”

*

Roisin and I met for afternoon tea at a patisserie. Becca sat in her stroller destroying a chocolate croissant, covering herself in flaky crumbs; Philip was seated in Roisin’s lap, frantically drawing with the crayons and construction paper I always carried in case of emergency. She was dressed in a very big Sex Pistols tee that she found at Pickering; smart money said it belonged to Gallowglass.

“You ought to go shopping,” I said. “I can’t imagine that’s too comfortable to wear out. Maybe to sleep in.”

Roisin shook her head. “Haven’t got the money for it.”

“Look, Rosie!” Philip pointed at his piece of paper, where he’d drawn a stick figure with a red crayon. Once he had Ro’s attention, he waved a blue crayon in the air before using it to add a mass of hair to his masterpiece. “I draw you!”

“Oh, Pip, that’s lovely!” She picked up the paper with her free hand - she held Philip with the other - and examined the portrait. “Look how pretty you’ve made my hair.”

“I draw with Jack,” he said matter-of-factly. Philip wholeheartedly believed that doodling with his big brother was the highest form of artistry.

“I can tell. You’ll be better than Jack in no time.”

Philip, pleased with Roisin’s praise, returned to his drawing.

“What do you think you’ll do?” I asked.

Roisin shrugged. Her eyes were still fixed on Philip as he worked. “I should move on soon.”

“Why?”

“There’s nothing for me here.”

I knew better than to ask about Jack. It was best if I stayed out of whatever was going on between them. But I sincerely doubted he would be happy to see her go.

“Where would you go?”

“Back to Los Angeles, most likely. I had a bartending job there. The owner’s Irish, too, and she only hires other vampires; I’m sure she’d give me the job back if I asked.”

Los Angeles. So that was where Gallowglass had exiled himself. “Did you like it there?”

“It was all right.” Her tone darkened. “I don’t like being hit on, though. Nearly got into fights with patrons a few times.”

I couldn’t imagine Roisin either shouting or brawling, but everyone has their breaking points. Images flashed before my third eye: Roisin in a dark, shapeless sweater, her hair braided away from her face and the long rope of her hair tucked into the back of her sweater to keep from drawing too much attention. A man’s hand reached out, the tips of his fingers brushing against her knuckles as he took a beer bottle from her hand. Her fingers spasmed, splaying out, before she grabbed the man by the wrist and pinned his hand to the bar.

“The owner isn’t too happy when I do that,” Roisin continued quietly. “But she makes allowances ‘cause young vampires are impulsive.”

Again, I didn’t think that word described Roisin terribly well, but I barely knew the girl. Maybe she was entirely different without Jack around.

“What if you found a job here?” I asked. “Would you stay then?”

She looked up at me, suspicion darkening her black-brown eyes. “What do you mean?”

“The children like you. And I could use the help.” Running the Congregation, teaching college courses, researching, and raising a pair of supernatural toddlers could be, at times, overwhelming.

“Thank you, Dr. Bishop -”

“Diana,” I corrected.

She continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “- But I don’t think you want me looking after your kids.” She didn’t meet my eye. 

“I most certainly do. You said you were an au pair, so I know you have experience. And most importantly, the children like you. And Matthew and I trust you.”

She made a face like a child that didn’t want to eat her vegetables. “I dunno.”

“Please, Roisin. We could really use you.”

She looked down at Philip, who was absorbed in a drawing of Apollo. Becca was making grabby hands at another croissant. “All right.”

*

_ Did you do this _ ?

_ What do you mean _ ? Gallowglass texted. 

Roisin huffed.  _ They asked me to be the nanny. Did you tell them to? _

_That’s great!!!_ Gallowglass sent a series of emojis to demonstrate his enthusiasm. _And no, I didn’t ask them to._ _Happy to have my flat back, though. No more blue hair all over my shit_.


	4. Chapter 4

Everyone was delighted that Roisin would be looking after the kids, none more so than Philip, who was infatuated with her. 

Plenty of European girls dyed their hair strange colors, but for whatever reason, Roisin’s blue locks had a unique pull on my youngest child. 

She established an easy rhythm with the children within a week. She played music from the 70s and 80s for them while she did chores. Apollo prefered Elton John. Becca was partial to David Bowie. Philip liked everything.

Roisin, who reminded me somewhat of Annie, the cautious young witch we took in in 1590, didn’t know French, so Becca took it upon herself to teach her by speaking exclusively in that language. Becca still spoke in simple sentences and struggled with parts of speech, but she was confident in her knowledge and her ability to educate this silly blue-haired girl - one of only three people she knew who didn’t speak her father’s preferred language. 

Roisin, in turn, spoke to Becca mostly in German, which she learned in high school and perfected while living in Berlin. She never talked about the family that she worked for. I was desperately curious as to why, but Diana knew better than to ask a vampire a personal question. She guessed it was because Roisin missed them and it was still too painful for her to talk about.

Jack on the other hand was struggling. He was very protective of Roisin, though she wasn’t sure if it was in a familial or romantic way. He walked her back and forth from Pickering Place every morning and night. He tried to go with her to Tesco and Superdrug or any other errands she may have. He carried her bags for her and sometimes came up to help put her groceries away.

He was anxious about having her meet his friends, especially Father Hubbard, although he and Roisin met when she was a baby. 

Matthew and Diana didn’t talk about Jack’s odd behavior. Part of her suspected that Jack was mating; the other part thought it was an attempt to make up for what happened to Roisin and Jack’s inability to help her. She didn’t think Jack knew, either, and he didn’t even try to figure it out.

*

“You ought to get some new clothes,” I said one day at breakfast. “You shouldn’t have to wear Gallowglass’s old things.”

Roisin looked down at herself. “I haven’t really got the money for it.”

She didn’t strike me as the sort of person to accept gifts of money, so I suggested giving her an advance on her salary. “You’ll need at least two new outfits if you’re coming to France with us. Leonard can take you wherever you like and help you carry your bags.”

“You want me to come to France with you? To that bloody big castle with the towers?”

“Not  _ that _ bloody big castle, but _ a _ bloody big castle, yes. What do you think?”

Excitement rose and fell in her eyes. I could see the wheels turning in her mind as she figured out what to say. “I don’t think I should come on vacation with you. I’ve only worked with you for a couple of weeks. We don’t know how well it will all work out yet.”

I took a deep breath. “The children love you, and Matthew and I like having you around. We  _ will _ understand if you decide to move on rather than stay with us, but at least come to France with us first.”

*

“Should we warn Ysabeau that we’re bringing a nanny?” I asked that night as Matthew and I lay in bed. He had his ear pressed to my belly to listen to Chickpea’s heartbeat. (Since Philip and Becca were originally called Apple and Bean, we decided to refer to our third child as another food.) 

“It would be polite. I’ll phone her in the morning.” Matthew shut his eyes and sighed in contentment.

“Maybe give her a heads-up about the hair.” Something told me Ysabeau would need time to prepare before she lay eyes on Roisin.

“I don’t think she’ll mind the hair too much,” Matthew replied. “She’s more likely to be upset by the fact that she’s a millennial.”

*

Diana gave Roisin a sizable sum of money before her shopping trip. Roisin protested at first, saying she wouldn’t take gifts. Diana finally had to write down the salaries of some of the other de Clermont servants to convince her. Roisin’s pulse quickened with excitement, a very rare reaction for a vampire. 

Diana offered Leonard and the car for her use. She accepted the offer and Jack invited himself along. He trusted Leonard, of course, but he still didn’t want to leave Roisin alone with a man she didn’t know.

Jack and Lobero were already seated in the back when Leonard pulled the car up in front of the townhouse. No one else slept there since Roisin lay claim to it.

“You’re Roisin, then?” Leonard said as he opened the passenger side door. 

“Yes.” She seemed uncomfortable for a moment before finally raising her eyes to meet his. She didn’t need to submit to him. He wouldn’t hurt her - he didn’t seem like the type, and Jack wouldn’t associate with someone prone to violence. And she was fairly confident she could hold her own against him in a fight. “Nice to meet you.”

Lobero nudged Roisin with his nose as she settled into the front seat. She smiled and scratched his chin. “Guess he forgives me for tossing him across the room.” Jack didn’t reply. 

Leonard slid into the driver’s seat. “Where to?”

“Primark, I suppose. You don’t have to come along, Jack. It’ll be boring for you. Leonard’s only here because he gets paid to be,” said Ro.

“Not true.” Leonard’s eyes remained on the road as he spoke. He seamlessly maneuvered them out of their parking spot. “Had to meet Jackie’s blue-haired friend, didn’t I?”

“If not for the hair, you might mistake me for a bit of wallpaper.”

Jack snorted in disagreement - though, to be honest, there was a fifty-fifty chance that he would have even noticed her without it.

Roisin was even-tempered by nature, but the frustration and hormonal imbalances that accompanied sexual maturation possessed her to make a drastic change at age sixteen after being ignored in favor of her best friend by the boy she’d had a crush on since girlhood. Suddenly, a week later, after a particularly rowdy sleepover with some of her cousins, Roisin returned to her mother with hair the color of a blue raspberry Jolly Rancher. There was no going back after that. 

Leonard smiled. “You’re an 80s girl?”

“Whatever you’ve got is fine.”

“Don’t say that,” Jack said.

Leonard grinned smugly as Will Ferrell started talking through the speakers.

_ “We’re gonna skate to one song, and one song only.” _

_ Balls so hard motherfuckers wanna find me -  _

Leonard belted out the lyrics in his ridiculously thick London accent. Lobero whined in protest.

*

Leonard and Lobero elected to guard the car while Roisin and Jack shopped. He was in a good mood this morning as he told her all about Sept-Tours and Le Revenant. He was a natural storyteller, and he was happiest when painting, playing music, or laying out a tale. 

“I nearly have a whole tower to myself at Le Revenant,” he said. “I’ve got a bedroom, music room, and a studio to paint in.”

“Le Revenant,” Roisin repeated under her breath. She turned to her sire with a teasing smile. “When did you become a toff?”

Jack rolled his eyes and continued his story, following a step behind as Roisin picked items from racks and shoved them at him to carry while she continued shopping. “There’s a moat around the place. Dad and I fish in it sometimes. He wants to teach Philip, too, but he won’t sit still long enough for it. And he can’t swim yet so he’s got to wear this huge life vest that’s bigger than he is.”

Roisin bought the highest-necked one-piece swimsuit she could find, along with a pair of neon shorts that she would wear with the suit to hide her scars.

It was off to Pull & Bear next, then a perfunctory trip to Boots for the necessities: a new bottle of YSL perfume, waterproof mascara, and toiletry travel minis. She got full-sized shampoo and conditioner, though. Her extra-long hair required special treatment.

“And there’s a stable with four horses,” Jack said. “Well, two horses and two ponies.”

The only time he stopped talking was when they were in the car with the music on. He was afraid of silence; that’s when his thoughts were the loudest.

Leonard was some five hundred years old, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so bored. He was ready to weep with joy when, six hours after heading out, Roisin said she was ready to go home.

Jack was still going on about France as he carried her bags inside Pickering Place. Leonard sped away the moment the last parcel was out of the car. “It’s too bad Mum’s aunt won’t be there. You’d get on great. She’s a witch, too, see, and her new partner is a daemon and a fashion designer. They’d love your hair.”

Roisin grinned. She wanted to know as much about Jack’s happy new life as she possibly could. She was afraid to ask any questions that might interrupt his train of thought - or worse, that it would somehow prompt him to leave.

He told her all about his brother and sister - the first time he felt them move inside his mother, how he waited anxiously at Pickering Place the day they were born, the first time he held them in his arms.

Roisin wanted him to tell her about when he was reunited with Diana and Matthew, but again, she dare not ask. He would tell her if he wanted her to know. It was probably still too much to think about without triggering the rage, and though she didn’t fear Jack, she was wary of that volatility inside him.

“Can I ask you something?”

Jack had stopped talking to gulp down cool water from a mug with a cartoon bird and the words  _ owl always love you _ printed on it. It was the first chance she’d had to speak all night. “Mm-hmm.”

Roisin wanted to ask if he really thought it was a good idea for her to work for his family - not that anything would happen with the Clairmonts as it had with the Schultzes. Jack was the only one who knew, and that was only because he fed from her while turning her. 

She chickened out at the last moment. “Why do you call all your dogs Lobero? You must’ve had hundreds over the years.”

“I called my second one Lawrence at first, but I kept slipping up and calling him Lobero. And my memories are all mixed up from being alive so long. I’ve had hundreds and hundreds of dogs. I couldn’t keep them all straight anyway.”

*

“Can you tell Roisin where we’re going?” Matthew asked his children. He was walking in circles with Becca in his arms as Roisin packed their bags. 

“Granny!” Philip declared. His griffin chirruped excitedly. 

“And where does Granny live?”

“Skeptors!” Becca shouted directly into Matthew’s ear.

“Yes, Granny lives at Sept-Tours.”

“What does that mean?” Roisin asked the children. They frowned.

“Granny’s house?” Philip guessed.

Roisin giggled. The boy beamed at her.

“I should go see how  _ Maman _ is doing.” Matthew set Becca down on her feet and knelt before her. “Can you keep Pip and Roisin company until I get back?”

“Yeah!” She ran to her nanny. “Bowie, Bowie!” she demanded. 

Matthew shut the door partway behind him before he headed across the house to Diana’s study. 

He could hear Jack in his studio upstairs. He had all four dogs with him - Lobero, Ardwina, Hector, and Fallon - and was listening to Mozart. 

The sound of scratching vinyl came from the twins’ room, followed by the sound of “China Girl.”

Diana was furiously typing away on her laptop. She had several browser tabs open, not to mention two Word documents and the calendar app.

Matthew knocked on the doorway unnecessarily before entering. “How’s it going?”

“Those Bulgarian vampires are stirring up trouble again.” She hit send on the email she was writing and leaned back in her chair. “I don’t suppose you want to take over the de Clermont Congregation seat for a while?”

“You suppose correctly.” Matthew kissed the top of her head. “Shall I ask Roisin to pack for you?”

“Thank the Goddess for that girl. Our very own Marthe.” she angled her face up for a kiss.

“Indeed.”

Roisin wasn’t as nervous around Matthew as she was originally but there was a long way to go before she would be comfortable with him. She was never in a room alone with him, certainly not one with the door shut. They had direct conversations and even laughed together, but she still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?”

“Nine o’clock. Jack’s taking the train to Paris the day after. He’s staying there for a day or two before coming to Le Revenant.”

“Good.” Diana narrowed her eyes at Matthew. “I don’t think we’ve ever made love on a desk before. Should we try it?”

“Absolutely not. You’re pregnant. I won’t take you anywhere but a soft bed.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. We’d had sex in stranger places than this but when I was pregnant, all bets were off. 

“However,” he continued, gently tugging my chair out and angling it toward him. “Other activities can take place outside of the bedroom.” He knelt before me and gently pulled my knees apart.

*

Jack kissed everyone goodbye as Leonard loaded their bags into the car. Not everyone could fit, so Roisin would follow behind in a taxi. 

“Jack comes too!” Becca insisted from the front door.

“I’ll be there before you know it,” her brother promised. “Come on now.” He took her by the hand to lead her outside but she went boneless on him so he had to carry her. He tossed her over his shoulder and she squealed with delight. 

“Careful,” Diana chided as Jack swung his sister around.

“Don’t worry, Mum.” 

Jack strapped Becca into her carseat when she was sufficiently dizzy and couldn’t put up a fight. He kissed his siblings on the forehead and his mother on the cheek. Matthew put his hands on his son’s shoulders and gave him strict instructions about taking care of the house. 

Roisin sat on the front steps as she waited for her taxi. Jack was too anxious to sit. He moved far more than other vampires, as though he had too much energy inside him and it wouldn’t stay in. When he wasn’t drawing or playing music, he would drum his fingers on his thigh or shake his leg up and down or rub the back of his neck with his hand.

Ro wondered if he was like this all the time or just when she was around. 

“When did you say you were coming to France?” she asked.

“Few days, maybe,” Jack replied. “I’ll go to Paris first, I think.”

“Okay.”

“You can stay in my room if you like,” Jack said after a moment.

“Thanks.” She swallowed. “Are you sure you won’t come now?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a few things to finish up.” He swallowed hard. “There are a few male vampires that work for us - Pierre and Alain. Pierre looked after me when I was little. Neither of them will bother you. And neither will my dad.”

Roisin nodded. “Okay.” 

She wasn’t really worried about Matthew hurting her anymore; she just didn’t want to risk making trouble. 

Gerhardt Schultze, for whom she worked as an au pair, took advantage of her, she realized that, but she hadn’t said no when his hand lingered on the small of her back or when he kissed her on the cheek for too long or when he put his hand between her legs. She couldn't meet his wife's or daughters' eyes the next day. 

That wouldn’t happen with Matthew. It would never happen again. But Roisin was afraid of sending out the wrong message after what happened with Benjamin’s sons.

Without warning, Jack put his hand on her face and looked into her eyes. “It really will be fine,” he said.

Roisin smiled just as the cab pulled up. “I know.”

He smiled and dropped his hand. He didn’t hug or kiss her or even really say goodbye, just loaded her and the dogs into the enormous taxi.

He waited outside the house and watched the cab until it turned a corner and went out of sight.

*

Matthew and I brought a globe onto the plane with us in the hopes that we might be able to teach the twins some geography on the way to Le Revenant. They knew where France and the UK were and the general areas where we lived, but they were hopelessly lost finding Connecticut. 

“Rosie! Where?” Becca asked, gently slapping the globe. 

Roisin rose from her seat and tapped Ireland. “Not far from London at all, see? And I live over here now.” She tapped California. 

“No,” Philip said. “You live with us.”

The plane landed just as the children approached meltdowns. They were much happier once we were in the car on the way to Le Revenant. 

Roisin was seated in the back between the two carseats, the children vying for her attention; Apollo and the dogs rode in a second car driven by Alain. Becca pointed at everything in sight and said the names in French. Roisin repeated the words back to her, and Becca critiqued her accent.

Philip gave up on Roisin and addressed Matthew instead. “Daddy, when we get there?”

“Twenty minutes or so,” his father replied.

“We get there fast?”

“Very fast, baby,” I assured him. 

“Granny at Lerveninont?” Philip and his sister still had difficulty with names of places.  _ Connecticut _ , for example, was  _ Kammenimit.  _

“Granny is at Sept-Tours,” Matthew replied. “We will see her tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Philip swung his legs. “Daddy?”

“Yes, Pip?”

“When we get there?”

Francoise prepared the house for our arrival. The shades were lifted, the house aired out, and a pitcher of blood was already waiting in the kitchen.

Francoise herself emerged from the pantry when I called out my greeting. She and Roisin introduced themselves; Francoise raised her eyebrows when she saw Roisin’s blue braid but she held her tongue. She took our bags up to our rooms after reporting on the house’s condition. Normally Alain or Pierre would do so, but Alain had yet to arrive. 

Roisin was wonderstruck by the castle’s grandeur. “You really are knights, aren’t you?”

Philip and Becca each grabbed one of Roisin’s hands and pulled in different directions, shouting out what they wanted her to see and which activity they would do first. She was too distracted by her surroundings to rein them in.

“And there’s  _ lots _ of fishies in the float,” Philip said.

“Moat,” I corrected gently. “ _ Boats float on the moat _ . Remember?”

“Yeah, moat,” he said dismissively.

“Mamma, I want Rosie to see horsies!” Becca said, stomping her foot. She was appalled that I wasn’t already trying to rein her brother in. 

“All right,” Matthew said. He scooped one squirming child into each arm. “First we will eat lunch and unpack. Then, when she is ready, Roisin can explore with us. Understood?” The kids nodded in unison. “Excellent.” Matthew threw a child over each shoulder and dashed up towards the bedrooms. 

“Let me show you Jack’s tower.”

Roisin looked horrified as she watched me climb the stairs. I was barely even showing yet, but Roisin, like lots of girls her age, was nervous around pregnant women. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to crack like an egg,” I assured her.

She made a doubtful sound. “It all just seems so . . . weird. And messy. I wouldn’t like somebody living in my guts.”

I nearly told her that she wouldn’t always feel that way, that she would understand when she was older and it was time to settle down. But she would never be older, and she would never bear children. I kept my mouth shut.

*

The first thing Andrew Hubbard heard when he reached Clairmont House was the sound of a piano. 

The song being played -  _ In the Hall of the Mountain King _ by Edvard Grieg - was not meant for that instrument originally. But the player executed it perfectly. 

The front door was slightly ajar. Hubbard moved slowly as he entered the house; he knew that any sudden movements might set Jack off. He was most certainly in a frenzy.

Lobero raced over to Hubbard and rubbed against his leg, whimpering. He raced back into the parlor as if he was leading the way. But Hubbard didn’t need a guide.

Sheets of paper were scattered all across the floor leading to the parlor. The drawings were all half-finished. Hubbard silently thanked God that Jack was focused on his music during this “frenzy,” as they called it. It was easier to call him back to reality. But when he was in a drawing frenzy . . . The pictures were painful to look at. And it was harder to lure Jack back into the real world.

Jack currently stood behind the piano with a pencil held between his teeth. He was wearing a ribbed white tank top - Leonard called it a “wife-beater” - and jeans that were slightly too big. His hair was greasy and his feet were bare.

The song became faster and faster, the notes higher and higher as it spun toward its end. Jack played furiously, passionately, to the point where he cracked one of the ivory keys of the piano. The song ended and he started from the beginning again.

Hubbard knew what to do in these situations when Matthew was not there to draw his son out of the darkness. The priest went to the playroom at the back of the house and picked up a blanket that smelled faintly like Becca. He found a light-up rubber ball with Philip’s scent on it and brought them both into the parlor.

Hubbard went to the laundry room next. There wasn’t anything that smelled like Matthew or Diana, but there was a pair of exercise shorts and an old tee in the hamper that smelled distinctly feminine. 

He set them down as close to Jack as he could get without disturbing him. Jack changed to a less frantic song, but he was still frenzied.

Jack stopped playing in the middle of the song. He turned his head toward the familiar smells. Hubbard had set the objects down on the piano bench that Jack had kicked away. He fell into a cross-legged position on the floor beside the bench and gently lifted one item at a time to smell it.

“I missed nighttime mass, didn’t I?” he said at last. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“It’s all right. Tina played the organ in your place,” the priest said. “You’re a good teacher, it seems.”

One corner of Jack's mouth turned up in a half smile. The nine-year-old demon, like several of Hubbard’s other creature children, had a schoolgirl crush on him. 

“Were you planning to tell me that your daughter was here?” Hubbard said, pulling Jack from his thoughts. The younger vampire didn’t look away from the objects in his lap. “I had to hear it from Leonard.”

“She’s not my daughter,” Jack said softly. He ran his hands over the Glastonbury Music Festival logo on the old tee she’d slept in. It took several moments to string together a coherent sentence. “I didn’t know how to say it.” 

“It is a blessing,” Hubbard said, setting a hand on his progeny’s shoulder. “We must thank God for showing us His mercy.”

Jack’s lip curled over his teeth. “His  _ mercy _ ?” he snarled, turning his head to look at the priest. Hubbard pulled his hand away as Jack’s eyes began to darken. “Are you mad?”

“Yes, His mercy,” Hubbard said resolutely. “He saved your daughter from torment and sent her back to you.”

“She’s not my daughter!” Jack said again. He looked back at the Glastonbury shirt. “I dunno what to do, Father H. How do I make this better? I can’t stand to look at her but I don’t want her to go away, cause what if she needs me? I gotta take care of her, don’t I?”

Hubbard exhaled thoughtfully. “Do you know why I made you a vampire, Jack?” Jack shook his head. “Because I loved you and I didn’t want you to die.”

It wasn’t a bombshell revelation, but hearing the words spoken aloud added a weight to them.

“It was as simple as that,” the priest continued, putting a hand on his progeny’s shoulder. “Either you love her or you don’t.”

“But what if I don’t  _ want _ her?”

“God’s will rarely matches aligns with what we want.”

*

_ Jack and Roisin first had sex ten days after Roisin became a vampire. It was passionate and urgent and rough. They were still fully dressed (Roisin had worn a skirt that day), pressed up against the same wall where Jack drained Roisin’s lifeblood and gave her his own. _

_ Vampires had excellent sexual stamina, but Roisin was a newborn, which made her impatient and ravenous in equal parts. Jack had some four hundred years of practice with women but his need for her was overwhelming. _

_ The sounds of kissing and ragged breathing filled the air, occasionally punctuated by a whimper or moan. Jack was well-endowed by any standard, but Roisin was keenly aware of the pain that mixed into her pleasure. _

_ Jack had a million thoughts racing through his head a mile a minute. Should he really be having sex with his progeny, especially so soon after her birth? When would his son, Max, return from hunting in the city? Would he catch them? Did it even matter? _

_ They clung to each other when it was over. Jack’s hand was pressed against the wall above Roisin’s head to keep him from pitching forward. Their foreheads touched as they breathed each other in. Roisin’s legs were shaking so badly that she would’ve fallen if Jack didn’t still have a grip on her.  _

_ Jack looked over his shoulder at the bed, gauging whether or not he had the energy to carry Roisin over to it. He decided he did. They flopped onto the mattress side by side, hearts still pounding. _

_ “What’s going to happen to me, Jack?” Roisin said softly, misty eyes fixed on the ceiling. _

_ Jack rolled onto his side to look at her. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I’ll look after you. I promise.” _


	5. Chapter 5

_Roisin was perched on his lap, one leg on either side of his thighs as she held him by the hair at the nape of his neck._

_Jack held her around the waist and by her hair as they shared another wet, carnal kiss. He gently rocked her hips forward and back on his lap to relieve some of the ache between their legs._

_Jack was still fully dressed and Roisin had only removed her tee when Jack caught the scent of another vampire in the hall outside their shit hotel room._

_His eyes suddenly blackened as he roughly pulled Roisin from his lap and shoved her between him and the wall to protect her from the intruder._

_These incidences - blood rages, as they were called - frightened Roisin. Either Jack or Max, the only other vampires Ro knew, had one every day, usually more than once, though their anger was never directed at her. They lost their temper with people on the street or the rude concierge. They tried very hard not to drain people dry when they were like this, but they failed more often than they succeeded._

_Jack peeled his lips back over his teeth and hissed as the door to the hotel room opened. He was prepared to spring into attack when the rage broke. He recognized the man._

_Jack straightened up. “Father Hubbard?”_

_The man, whom Roisin vaguely recognized from Jack’s blood, lookedexhausted. “Jack.” He tried to mask his disappointment to avoid triggering Jack’s rage again. “Who is this?”_

_Jack turned around to help Roisin put her shirt back on. His hands were trembling and he wouldn’t meet her eyes._

_Jack was no longer in a rage, but Roisin knew better than to move or speak until he was entirely himself._

_“Roisin,” he replied softly. “She’s mine.”_

_Hubbard rubbed his forehead and pulled the door shut behind him. “You made another vampire,” he said to himself._

_Jack’s shoulders slumped and he looked to the floor, ashamed._

_Roisin was still too young to express all her urges and feelings in words. She was angry that this man - Jack’s maker, she realized - was making him upset. So she pushed Jack aside and lunged at the priest._

*

Roisin’s rooms at Le Revenant were sparsely decorated but breathtakingly beautiful. 

While most of the other bedrooms looked like actual bedrooms, this one looked like it belonged to an aristocrat on holiday. 

There were no paintings or tapestries along the pale stone walls; all the focus was on the huge, ornate bed set against one wall and the floor-to-ceiling windows on the wall opposite that opened onto a Juliet balcony.

Ro didn’t think she should sit on the few chairs or use the mirrored vanity and matching armoire, but Diana assured her that they wouldn’t break. “Even if they do, it doesn’t matter. The de Clermonts have been collecting things for centuries. I guarantee we’ll find something to replace it.”

It reminded her slightly of the room Benjamin gave her to stay in. Both were big and barren and made of stone. The compound where most of Benjamin’s underlings lived was made in the Soviet brutalist style, which meant it looked like a wonky stack of breezeblocks from the outside. The inside wasn’t much better.

But Le Revenant was a proper French chateau surrounded by miles and miles of greenery. And space to swim.

Roisin put on her swimmers and shorts. She jumped from the outer side of the Juliet balcony two stories down into the calm black water of the moat.

The children were fast asleep in their beds, and Matthew and Diana had retired to their rooms an hour before. They gave Roisin free rein of the house and grounds but asked that she not go riding at night and disturb the horses’ sleep. She was bloody terrified of horses and donkeys and even zebras she saw at the zoo, so it was an easy request to agree to.

What she really wanted was the water. She was made for it.

She was on the diving team back when she was in school. She broke the school’s record for backstroke, only to break her own record again two months later. She was certified as a lifeguard when she was sixteen, and got her scuba diving license just before she turned twenty. She lived in half a dozen places after Benjamin, only for a week or two at a time with the exception of Los Angeles, all by the beach. Gallowglass was even teaching her to surf.

Swimming was even better now that she was a vampire. She could stay under the surface for longer because she didn’t need to breathe much, and her enhanced senses made the feel of the water against her skin hypnotic. 

She swam laps around the castle for a while before going limp and allowed the water to cradle her back as she floated on top of it.

The sky was clear here. The castle was too far from anywhere else to have light pollution. Roisin looked up at the stars and tried to remember the constellations Jack taught her when she was still young. Gallowglass, ever the sailor, offered to teach her once when she complained about the randomness of all the shapes, but she didn’t take him up on it.

She wished Gallowglass were here. He would make her feel better by cutting the tension between her and Jack, but he still wasn’t ready to see Diana.

Everyone wondered whether he would come to Marcus’s wedding at the end of the summer, but it was still months away.

Roisin was currently more concerned about her impending meeting with Ysabeau than her friend’s spiritual turmoil. Roisin was slated to spend two nights at Sept-Tours with the twins so Diana and Matthew could have some alone time at Le Revenant.

Madame Ysabeau de Clermont was said to be simultaneously welcoming and terrifying. Sept-Tours, her home, was supposedly twice as big and twice as beautiful as Le Revenant. Roisin’s poor imagination couldn’t conjure up a picture of anything grander than her employers’ chateau.

Roisin climbed out of the water just as the sky began to lighten. She poked around for soap and shampoo in her bathroom and instead found myriad French organic bathing products. 

No wonder Jack was losing touch with his humble roots. Roisin would, too, if she continued living with and working for the Bishop-Clairmonts. Everything was expensive and luxurious and lovely.

What on earth would Sept-Tours look like?

*

“Good morning,” Roisin said brightly as she came into the dining room. 

Matthew and the children were already seated around the table. “Good morning,” Matthew said, looking up from his newspaper.

“Hi, Rosie!” Philip shouted.

Roisin looked over her shoulder into the hall. “Is Dr. Bishop awake yet? I need her help. I dunno what to wear.”

Matthew was pleased that Roisin seemed so comfortable around him. “She’s having a shower before breakfast. Sit down.”

“Rosie, juice!” Becca said, triumphantly holding up a sippy cup filled with blood and water. It wasn’t clear if she wanted Roisin to have a sip or just admire the child’s prize.

“Yum!” Roisin sat down beside her. She took the teapot and a cup from the center of the table and poured herself a drink. “How are you, Professor?”

“I am quite well, thank you,” Matthew said. “Did you enjoy your first night?”

“Yes. I just swam ‘round the moat all night. It was great.”

“Good morning.” Diana came into the room with one hand on her lower back. The weight of the baby must be paining her.

Roisin poured her a cup of tea as she sat heavily between Matthew and Pip. Ro didn’t know exactly what measurements her employer prefered, so she set the cup down before Diana and set the sugar to one side of the cup and the milk to the other.

“Thank you.” Diana gifted her with a bright smile.

“Would you mind helping me pick out something to wear after breakfast? I dunno what to pack for the sleepover, either.”

“Of course,” Diana said. “But I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Matthew gave his wife a sidelong look.

Diana finished her breakfast and went with Roisin to her room. It was, unlike every other room in Le Revenants, totally bare. It had a certain charm about it; the minimalism was refreshing in contrast to every other room in really every other house belonging to a de Clermont.

Diana sat on Roisin’s bed as the vampire laid down outfits for her to approve. “I know I’ll need something formal for dinners, but I’m not sure what to wear when I’m messing about with the kids.”

“Jeans, absolutely,” Diana replied. “They’ll make you go to the stables and you’ll ruin anything else you wear. Try this pair -” she pointed to high-waisted, dark-washed denim - “and this shirt.” She gestured to a billowy off-white top. “And you can tuck it in. Ysabeau wears shirts like that sometimes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Try it on.”

It was then that Diana saw the full extent of Roisin’s injuries. Her body was covered with dozens of bite marks concentrated primarily on her neck and thighs. It was horrifying. Diana brought her hand to her mouth in shock to stifle the small gasp that escaped from her lips.

How had this poor girl survived? She said Benjamin’s sons let her go. Perhaps they expected her to die on her own.

Roisin changed as quickly as she could. “They’re just scars,” she said quickly, tucking in her shirt. “I don’t mind them much anymore.” She didn’t meet Diana’s eyes. 

“I have scars all across my back,” Diana said. “Another witch gave them to me when Matthew and I first got together.”  Roisin wanted to know more but she stayed silent, letting diana take her time. "She wanted to punish me for falling in love with him."

Roisin's mouth twisted in sympathy. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Diana said with a soft smile. “Everyone has scars.”

*

Roisin’s mouth fell open as Matthew’s family home came into view. She’d break her jaw from dropping it if this kept up.

“Gonna swallow flies,” Becca said to her nanny, repeating a phrase her Gamma, Sarah, said when one of the twins kept their mouth open for too long before or after eating.

Matthew opened all the car doors. He and Roisin each unstrapped a child from its carseat. Roisin, whose place was in the middle of the back seat, inelegantly climbed over the seats to get out. 

It took me about as long to get out of the passenger’s seat as it did to release the children from their seats. I was smack in the middle of my second trimester and I was being extra careful this time to avoid the complications I had last time. There was little risk, since Matthew was with me and my stress was to a minimum, but I didn’t want to take the chance.

Two lovely women stood at the entrance to the chateau, both with wide smiles. Ysabeau was easy to identify. And she was terrifyingly lovely.

The children ran to her.

Ysabeau and the other woman - Marthe, she assumed, Ysabeau’s housekeeper and dearest friend - opened their arms to the children. “Ah!  _ Mon petit chou d’amour _ !”

_ My little cabbage of love _ , Roisin translated in her head. This was either a unique term of endearment or Roisin’s French was even worse than she thought.

She followed a footstep behind Matthew and Diana. They greeted each other with kisses on the cheek. Ysabeau touched Diana’s stomach and smiled.

It was a few moments before they remembered Roisin.

Face to face with an ancient, elegant vampire matriarch, she felt like absolute ass. 

Ysabeau de Clermont was one of those unbearably beautiful women that made ordinary girls like Roisin question every decision they ever made. 

“You are Roisin, then?” Ysabeau’s arms were crossed over her chest. There was the slightest hint of judgement in her eyes as she looked the girl over.

“Madame.” Roisin reflexively curtseyed at the regal woman as though she were meeting a monarch. Her dark eyes widened in surprise at herself when she came back up. “Shit,” she whispered under her breath. 

There was a moment of absolute silence before Ysabeau smiled widely. “Magnifique!” She declared. She went to Roisin’s side, linked her arm with hers, and led her toward the parlor. Roisin looked over her shoulder at Matthew and Diana, seemingly for help. “So few women these days are taught to curtsey. Human society is far too casual. We vampires are more traditional.”

“So you speak wonderful German,” Ysabeau continued once they reached the courtyard. they sat at a lovely wrought-iron table with matching chairs. Philip climbed onto his grandmother’s lap. “Are you conversational in any other language? Irish, perhaps?” 

She shook her head. Everyone learned Irish in school, but few retained it once they left. Roisin could only remember how to ask if she could go to the bathroom.

Roisin was relieved when Apollo took flight and drew everyone’s attention. Diana smiled and put her hand on her belly.

“How is my next grandchild?” Ysabeau asked.

“Quite well,” Matthew replied. “I expect Chickpea to quicken any day now.”

“Daddy, what’s quicken?” Becca asked.

“It’s when a baby starts to move in its mommy’s tummy,” Diana replied.

“We move in your tummy, Mamma?” Pip asked.

“Oh, yes.” Matthew plopped his daughter onto his lap. “You moved all day long. Your poor mother got no rest.”

“We try to get out,” Becca guessed. “Mommy’s tummy too small to live in.”

“Yeah.” Philip nodded enthusiastically. 

“I remember you started kicking like crazy when Jack came around,” Diana said fondly. “You knew your big brother was right outside and you wanted to play.”

Both children smiled. They adored both their older brothers; they were closer with Jack since he lived with them most of the time and was always willing to play. Marcus lived far away and they didn’t see him as much.

“I like brothers,” Becca said.

Philip once again nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah.”

*

Roisin was gone for twenty-nine hours and already Jack was feeling the loss.

He hadn’t gone more than six hours without seeing Roisin in the time since she found him, and even that short separation made him agitated.

He was particularly irritable and violent after Benjamin took her away. He’d all but given up when he thought she was dead. He would’ve let himself die if he didn’t believe he would see his parents again.

Andrew Hubbard never mated, but he knew the signs when he saw them. 

Jack was restless and irritable. Any attempt at conversation made him grimace and twitch like someone rubbed sandpaper against his neck.

Neither his art nor his music provided sufficient distraction. Every line he drew turned into Roisin’s nose or mouth or the curve of her hips. At one point, Jack played the organ so furiously that he cracked two of its keys.

“Maybe you ought to go to France,” Leonard said cautiously, eyeing the broken ivory. “That might make you feel better. Be around your family.”

Jack frowned at the keyboard. It felt like there were ants crawling under his skin, scratching to get out. He worried that if they weren’t freed, they might drive him into another episode of blood rage.

“Father H won’t mind,” Leonard continued. “You’re losing your shit, bruv.” 

Jack nodded at his friend. “I think you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

Jack went home and tossed a handful of things into a duffel bag, most of them art supplies, along with a large portrait canvas that he would have to carry without baggage. He gulped down two glasses of blood and one glass of water. Being thirsty always made the rage worse. He grabbed a blueberry pop tart on his way out and held it between his teeth as he grabbed at Lobero and his belongings.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of stuff crammed into one chapter

_ “Mr. Fox,” Jack said. “Benjamin.” He was cautious but earnest. “They’re my children. I’d like to keep them with me.” _

_ “Don’t you want them to be raised properly?” Benjamin said. “They’ll have experienced teachers and my sons and grandsons for company.” He smiled at Jack’s son, a tall, sullen-faced man of thirty years. “Max especially will benefit.” _

_ Max was the perfect vampire in Benjamin’s mind. He had a military background, which meant he was accustomed to taking orders and he possessed a measure of self-discipline, which was almost nonexistent in vampires with blood rage.  _

_ It’s why many of Benjamin’s kin died as infants or fledgelings: The blood rage made them disobedient. They were unable to follow the rules and either tore each other apart or were put down like dogs. Benjamin’s favorite son, Vasiliy, didn’t inherit the gift of rage from his father, but he was just as clever and cruel. His clear-headedness made him an ideal lieutenant, ready and able to plot campaigns as well as punish the fledglings who disobeyed. And he was always in charge when Benjamin was away. _

_ “Roisin doesn’t have blood rage like the others,” Jack said quickly. “And you don’t have any granddaughters or daughters for her to spend time with. Can’t she stay with me?” _

_ Geoffrey, Benjamin’s second-favorite son and third in command, slipped a glance at his father and smiled. The more Jack wanted the girl, the more valuable she was. Normally, a female without the gift of rage was useless and Benjamin would’ve tossed her aside. But Jack was the key to finding Matthew, and holding his daughter would keep him in check. _

_ She was more than just his daughter if their mingled scents were any indication.  _

_ “Women are tricky,” said Benjamin by way of explanation. “She’ll be perfectly safe among my children, I assure you, and she’ll have her brother for company.” _

_ Jack didn’t know for sure then that Benjamin was raping women for sport and breeding but he suspected a woman alone with them was anything but safe. _

_ “But they’re  _ mine _.” _

_ Benjamin stepped forward and put his hands on Jack’s shoulders. “You are my dearest grandson. There is always a place for you in my home. Come visit us.” _

_ Roisin managed to stay silent during the exchange, but her eyes were wide and fearful as Benjamin approached. She flashed a desperate look at Jack. He said he would take care of her. He wasn’t seriously going to let creepy strangers drag her off to Bumblefuck, Poland, was he? _

_ Max subtly pinched her on the arm to bring her attention back to their great-grandsire. He knew instinctively that Benjamin wasn’t the sort of person you look away from, especially if you were a woman. _

_ A chilling smile crept over Benjamin’s face. “Hello. I’m so pleased to meet you.” _

*

The sky had begun to lighten when Diana felt something like a gas bubble move in her stomach. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.

Matthew was half asleep beside her, but he nearly leapt out of bed at the sound of his wife’s distress. “What’s wrong?”

She grabbed his hand and set it against her bare stomach without a word. They were silent for a long time as they lay eye-to-eye, waiting for the next kick.

It was a strong one.

Matthew smiled broadly and pressed a kiss to Diana’s bare stomach; she shivered in delight. “Hello, my darling,” he said softly, rubbing his hand over the place where it kicked. “I’m so pleased to meet you.” A soft flutter under the skin answered him.

“Chickpea is happy to meet you, too.” Diana smiled, running her fingers through Matthew’s hair as he softly sang to their child. 

The satisfied glowing feeling they always had after making love returned. They were the only two in the world at times like this. 

“We should start talking about names,” Diana eventually said. She kept her voice soft and continued running her fingers through Matthew’s dark hair.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Emily for a girl.”

Matthew smiled gently. He brushed her smooth cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I think that would be wonderful.”

“And for a boy . . . I was thinking of calling him Hugh.” 

Diana knew precious little about the long-dead vampire, only that he was Fernando's husband, Gallowglass’s father, and Matthew’s favorite brother. She knew that he was romantic and idealistic. She knew that he was burnt at the stake.

Matthew was silent for a long moment as emotions warred within him. Finally he smiled. “I’ll never understand why I was blessed with you.”

This was one of those times where Diana didn’t understand exactly what was going through her husband’s mind; this was one of them.

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head in disbelief. “ _ Mon coeur _ .” He leaned forward and caught his wife’s mouth in a kiss before she could ask him to explain.

His hand roamed between her thighs. He was just about to make contact with her already throbbing core when he sat bolt upright, muscles tensed as if he were about to fight.

“Matthew?” Diana asked, pushing herself halfway up on her elbows.

“Someone’s here.” He crossed to the window and pushed the gauzy curtain aside so he could see who was in the driveway. 

Diana knew there was no real danger; Matthew was just being overprotective of his mate and child. But whoever it was interrupted a deeply intimate moment and she was more than a little irritated.

“Who is it?” she asked.

Matthew watched a light-haired boy climb out of the deep green Range Rover. “It’s Jack.” He walked on shaky legs toward the entryway. “Something’s wrong.”

Jack’s agitation was palpable as he entered the chateau. He dashed to Roisin’s room, Lobero on his heels. “Ro?” The door was open. He knew she wasn’t there but he went in anyway. He had to be sure. “Roisin?”

Her makeup was still laid out on the vanity. Two drawers on the wardrobe were cracked open. One had a t-shirt peeking out of it. So she was here, and recently, too, judging by the freshness of her smell. But when would she come back? Why wasn’t she here now?

He was too distracted to hear his father’s approach.

“Jack,” he called from the hallway; he didn’t dare get close to Roisin’s room for fear that his lingering smell would upset her. He wore only a pair of sweatpants, his chest and feet bare.

Jack was visibly shaking as he stood in the bedroom doorway. “She’s not here.” A note of panic crept into his voice as he walked toward his father. “Where is she? Where are the twins? Are they safe?”

Matthew put his hand on his son’s shoulder and began their ritual. “Eyes on me, Jack.” Jack did as he was told. “They’re all right. Roisin and the twins are at Sept-Tours with Ysabeau and Marthe for a Granny sleepover. They’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.”

“Sept-Tours,” Jack repeated softly.

Matthew nodded once. “That’s right.”

“They’re okay,” he reassured himself. 

“They’re perfectly all right,” Matthew agreed. “You can go join them if you like. Ysabeau is always happy to see you, and I know your brother and sister miss you.”

Jack nodded. He missed them, too. But he didn’t  _ need _ to be with them to go on being sane - not that he was fully sane to begin with.

“Roisin will be glad to see you as well,” Matthew added when Jack’s face fell.

His eyes lit up again and his mouth curved into a small smile. “You think so?”

“I know so. And when you get back, you can say hello to your little brother or sister. It started moving just before you came.”

Jack sprang up, both guilty and excited. “Really? It’s moving? I’m sorry I interrupted you. Could you apologize to Mum for me? I’ll do it properly when I get back . . .”

Judging by Matthew’s state, Diana was neither in the mood nor the appropriate attire to entertain visitors. 

“I will,” Matthew said. “Now off with you. Maybe you can be there by breakfast.”

*

Roisin sat with Marthe in the kitchen while the children played with Ysabeau in the sitting room. She ground down dried herbs with a wooden mortar and pestle while Marthe flitted around the room.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you?” Roisin asked.

“No. I quite like cooking and you have a task already.” She waved a dish towel at the bowl of herbs.

“What is this for? Does it go with breakfast?”

“You are making a special tea for Madame,” she explained. “It will help with her discomfort as her baby grows.”

“Did you make this for her when she was pregnant with the twins?”

“Not enough,” Marthe said ruefully. “Carrying twins is always a complicated business, but Madame was dealing with great stress at the time, with Sieur away establishing his scion and the other dangers in Europe.”

_ Other dangers _ .

Roisin twisted her mouth to the side.“You can say Benjamin’s name in front of me. Actually, I’d prefer it if you do. Dancing around the issue only makes it worse. There’s no use pretending or wishing it didn’t happen.”

Marthe sat down at the little round table across from Roisin. “You’re right. And you are very brave not to give up after what Benjamin and his son’s did to you.”

Roisin bristled. She didn’t want to hear that she was brave for not being dead. It made her uncomfortable.

“I knew a woman like you,” Marthe continued. “She was sired by a man quite like Benjamin; he and his sons treated her how Benjamin and his brood treated you. They were monsters.”

“What happened to her?”

“She was trapped with her sire for years before soldiers came to rid the world of such a scourge. After he rescued her, the man in charge sought me out. I was her servant when she was a human, you see, and he thought my presence would help the girl heal.”

“And did it?”

“ _ Oui _ . I could not take away her pain completely, but I helped her grow strong again and learn to trust..”

“I’m sorry, Marthe, but what’s the point of this story?”

“The point is that there are people in this household who understand what you have been through.” she put her hand over Roisin’s. “And we will help you however we can.”

_ We _ . The girl in the story was Ysabeau, then.

That must be why she was so gracious: She knew firsthand what Roisin needed. Must be why Professor Clairmont was excessively nice to her: His mother had been through the same thing.

Roisin burst into tears. Marthe gave her a large handkerchief and hushed her, rubbing her hand across the girls heaving shoulders.

She’d only just pulled herself together when they heard the crunch of tires on gravel outside.

*

The twins were playing dress up with Ysabeau and her vast collection of designer goodies before breakfast when a car pulled in. They knew immediately who was inside and raced out of the sitting room shouting for their brother.

“Hey, guys!” Jack squatted just as his siblings reached him so he could hug each of them with one arm. “Look at you! Is that a new dress?” he asked his sister.

“We play dress up wif Granny,” she explained, flapping the sleeves like wings. “I’m too little now but it fits when I’m big.”

“Pollo does scarfs and hats,” Pip said. He was sporting a stovepipe hat himself; it kept falling over his eyes. “And big sunnies. Look!”

Apollo, who was playing with Lobero a few feet away, was indeed dressed to the nines. Jack thought he resembled Elton John. “Apollo looks very nice.”

“Yeah but I nice too, right?” Becca asked, batting her eyes.

“Of course! You might just be the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Marthe and Roisin appeared in the doorway to the servants’ quarters.

“Jack.” It was half a question, half a cry of joy.

Her blue hair was piled on top of her head in what was meant to be a bun. She wore an airy skirt and thin top through which Jack could just see the outlines of her bra. Her feet were bare. Her toenails were painted green.

The overwhelming sense of relief Jack felt nearly knocked him off his feet. Instead, it propelled him forward until he was close enough to touch her. 

Becca made an indignant sound at being suddenly tossed aside, but she didn’t complain or stamp her feet as she usually might.

There was no blood left over from crying but Roisin’s under eyes were puffy and pink; Jack’s heart clenched. He put his hands on her face and searched her eyes for signs of distress. 

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

He thoroughly looked her over to be sure that she was all right, gently lifting her arms and turning her wrists to be sure. He carefully pushed her soft hair away so he could take a quick peek at her neck. He knew that no one had hurt her - Sept-Tours was the safest place in the world - but he had to see for himself. 

There were no visible new marks on her, just faint shadows of bite marks on the back of her neck that matched the ones on her inner thighs. Those marks were old and faded. But they were still there.

Roisin didn’t speak as Jack examined her. She let him touch her without complaint, looking at his face all the while. She liked that he was worried. She didn’t want him to be upset, of course, but she was happy that he missed her.

Vampire females chose their mates; all the male had to do was agree. Roisin chose Jack a long time ago. Perhaps he would finally say yes.

Jack took a step back when he was satisfied. His relief was suddenly replaced with sadness. Why wasn’t she as relieved to see him as he was to see her? Didn’t she miss him at all? Didn’t she want him?

She slipped her arms around him before he had the chance to spiral any further. It was a short hug, but it was enough to convince him that Roisin was happy he was there. That, and the sudden smile on her face. 

God, she was soft.

“I thought you weren’t coming until next week,” she said, pulling away. 

He didn’t look well. The ever-present shadows under his eyes were darker than usual, and his cheeks and jaw were dusted with stubble. His hair was unwashed and wild.

Jack resisted the urge to pull her against him again. “I couldn’t wait that long.”

He came for her. Because he couldn’t stand to be without her. Roisin’s heart thumped in her ribcage, but not with joy. Suddenly she had the urge to run.

But that made no sense. She wanted Jack and she should be pleased that he came to her. Instead the attention made her restless. 

“Ah, Jack!” Ysabeau must’ve detected Roisin’s discomfort. She came strolling in with her arms open. She kissed her grandson on each cheek.. “What a lovely surprise.”

Jack smiled shyly. “Hi, Gran. Sorry I came barging in.”

“Don’t be silly. Come along. We were just about to begin breakfast.”

Becca and Philip each grabbed one of Jack’s hands and pulled him forward before he could reach for Roisin again. 

*

Carter’s was mostly a vampire bar. The owner was an Irish vamp who employed only other vampires, which brought in a particular crowd.

Roisin worked there for a couple of months before running off to Europe. She’d been planning to go ever since she heard Benjamin was dead but it took almost a year and a half for her to muster up the courage.

Gallowglass spent a lot of time at Carter’s these days. Vampires were social creatures, and Gallowglass didn’t have a family or a roommate at the moment, so he went to the bar. He played darts and pool and foosball with other patrons he knew fairly well. But he didn’t consider them friends.

Tonight he sat at the bar with a double whiskey on the rocks and watched the game on one of the big flatscreens that decorated the walls.

It was pretty empty. Gallowglass barely noticed when another vampire sat at the bar two seats away from him. 

“What can I get you, sweetie?” Carter asked in her thick, sliding accent.

“Bottled beer. You can surprise me with what kind.” He had a posh English accent and his tailored clothes made him stand out among the other blue-collared patrons in t-shirts and jeans.

Carter disappeared for a moment and returned with a bottle of Stella. She opened it and set it down before the man.

“Thanks.” He let Carter take a step away so he could pretend his next question was casual, almost an afterthought. “Last time I was here there was a girl with blue hair serving drinks.” Gallowglass’s ears pricked up. “Is she here?”

“No,” said Carter. She kept her tone conversational and friendly but she was suspicious of him, too. “She’s gone traveling.”

The vampire twisted his mouth to the side. “Shame. I was hoping to ask her to dinner.”

“She doesn’t date,” Gallowglass said reflexively. 

Vampires were protective and possessive by nature. Roisin was the closest thing he had to a pack without his family around, and his instincts went wild. She stabbed him in the shoulder with a broken beer bottle the night they met - he’d fed on a drunk human, so he was drunk himself and acted too aggressively.

She didn’t need a protector, but Gallowglass appointed himself to the position anyway. Like most vampires, he needed someone to look after to keep from going mad.

He downed the last of his whiskey and ordered another. 

“Oh? Well that’s a shame,” the man said again. He extended a hand Gallowglass’s way. “Basil.”

Basil’s hair was parted and combed, his face clean-shaven and smooth. Gallowglass guessed he was around five-ten, close to the average height for American men, though he was clearly English. His Omega watch - the same sort James Bond wore - looked expensive. 

Basil looked like he should be on Wall Street rather than an LA dive bar.

He took the stranger’s hand. “Gallowglass. Nice watch.”

“Thanks.” He nodded at the signet ring on Gallowglass’s pinkie. “Nice ring.”

“Thanks.” Gallowglass flexed his fingers and put his hand on the counter out of Basil’s sight. The ring marked him as a Knight of Lazarus. He’d had it for hundreds of years and by now it felt like a part of his hand, but he didn’t like it anymore. Reminded him too much of his family.

“What brings you to Los Angeles?” he asked.

“Unfinished business with some old acquaintances,” Basil said with a smile. “You?”

“The opposite.”

They chatted and drank for the next few hours. Basil was friendly and interesting and funny, just as a drinking buddy should be, but there was something off about him, though Gallowglass didn’t know what it was.

Perhaps he was biased because Basil expressed interest in Roisin early on. He said he saw her here before. But Gallowglass didn’t recognize him and Roisin would’ve told him if another vampire hit on her.

He pushed the thought from his mind and paid his bill. “Later, man,” he said.

Basil nodded. “I intend to drink here quite a lot. I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

*

Ysabeau had the idea for a campout in the courtyard so they could all look at the stars.

She had a professional telescope that she seemingly produced out of thin air. She and Jack set it up while Marthe and Roisin laid out sleeping bags and mats. Ysabeau said she was too old to sleep outside, so the four of them would have to fend for themselves at bedtime.

“I wanna go to stars,” said Pip. “I fly there.” He thought for a moment before turning to Marthe, whom he considered to be his third grandmother. “I fly, Marthe?”

“Perhaps,” she replied. “Your mother can fly. I am sure you will have many of her gifts.”

“Pollo flies!” Becca said pointedly. “Can ride Pollo to the stars!”

“No,” the four adults said in unison. Apollo was big enough now that Philip could ride him like a horse if he wanted to. Diana and Matthew forbid this, of course. They didn’t want to add Philip and his cat-bird gallivanting across oceans to their list of troubles.

Their parenting policy with regard to magic was to deal with new abilities as they came up until the children were old enough to sit down and learn from Gamma Sarah. 

They roasted marshmallows in the fire pit - Jack and Roisin did, as the children were far too young - and mashed them up between graham crackers and chocolate. The twins’ faces were sticky and smeared with crumbs and melted chocolate by the end of it, but they refused to let Roisin clean them off. Marthe finally convinced them to clean up by offering “juice” to the big boy or girl who behaved.

Ysabeau was perched on the edge of an Adirondack chair that Sarah gave her, leaning forward as she told the children stories. Some were about Matthew. Most were about Philippe and his great adventures. 

The twins regarded their late grandfather like a great hero of old, performing wonders that put even Hercules to shame.

Ysabeau desperately wanted to hear about Jack’s secret visits with Philippe, but she dare not ask.

Finally, Ysabeau and Marthe went inside. 

“Not tired,” Becca whined.

“That’s all right.” Jack said. “Lie down and I’ll show you the constellations.” He lay back on one of the puffy sleeping bags. He winked to Roisin; he planned to bore the children to sleep.

“That one’s Aries. Do you see?” Jack traced the stars with his index finger as best as he could. His arms were open so his siblings could use them as pillows. “It’s meant to look like a ram.”

“Ram?” Philip repeated.

“It’s a boy-sheep with curly horns,” Roisin explained.

“Where’s horns?” Becca asked, glaring up at the supposed sheep.

“You have to use your imagination,” Jack replied.

“No,” Becca replied with a shake of her head. “No sky pictures. You’re lying.”

“No, Jack not lie,” Philip piped. “Mamma say Jack never lie ever.”

Jack lowered his eyebrows in confusion. “When did she say that?”

The children tired themselves out complaining about stupid commentations (constelations was a hard word to pronounce.) 

Roisin tucked the twins into a single sleeping bag, Becca’s bear settled between them. It was another ten minutes before things settled down: Apollo semi-successfully wiggled into the sleeping bag (only his head would fit in) and Lobero patrolled the courtyard to make sure they were secure.

Jack lay on his back, one arm tossed casually over his stomach, the other folded behind his head. 

The twins were fast asleep beside him, curled around Apollo and each other. Roisin was on their other side.

“Does Marcus ever do this sort of thing with them?” she asked. Her voice was soft, though there was little danger of waking the kids. They didn’t sleep much but when they did, they were dead to the world.

“He wants to,” Jack replied. “But he’s mated and about to get married so he hasn’t got the time. He’s living in the States now. We see him more when we’re in New Haven.”

“Is it odd? He’s younger than you but he’s older, too,” Roisin said. 

Jack twisted his mouth as he thought. “It’s like me and the twins are from a second marriage, I s’pose. Dad raised up Marcus on his own before he even knew Diana existed. Then he married her and now he has new children to raise.”

“Does that make you sad? He’s your older brother - sort of - and you’re not close with him?”

“Nah.” He turned a wide smile on her. “That’s one good thing about being a vampire: We’ve got all the time in the world to get to know each other. All the time in the world to do anything, really.”

There was a long but comfortable silence before he spoke again. “I’ve been thinking about my mum lately. My human mum, not Diana,” he explained, voice quiet and eyes on the stars.

“Tell me about her,” Roisin said, the corners of her mouth turning up into a smile.

“I don’t remember much. She died around the time of the Spanish Armada, so I must’ve been five or six.”

“What was she like?”

“She had light hair like me.” He smiled slightly. “She sang to me before bed. Hymns. Her voice was no good, but I liked it anyway.” 

Roisin hadn’t spoken to her own mother in four years. She’d severed ties with her family as soon as she left for Berlin. 

“I remember she coughed a lot,” Jack continued. “I think that’s how she died.” A single tear slid from the corner of his eye. He didn’t wipe it away. 

Roisin looked up at the stars and took a deep breath. She gently rose to her feet and walked around the clump of children and pets to lay beside Jack. Lobero’s head rose to make sure everything was all right. He went back to snoring almost immediately.

Jack stayed perfectly still as Roisin snuggled in beside him, afraid that even taking a breath would disturb her. She lay out on her side and swiped her hair out of her face before setting her cheek against Jack’s chest. Her hand lay over his heart.

Jack swallowed and opened his fingers. He raised his arms so that they hovered over her; he was asking for permission to touch her. She wordlessly took them and tucked them around her. He cautiously tightened his grip as she settled back in. He nuzzled into the top of her head, breathing in her sweet scent. She smelled like white flowers he couldn’t name, and he fell asleep guessing at what they were called.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler, sorry
> 
> Playlist:   
> Futile Devices by Sufjan Stevens  
> Dead Rabbit Hopes by the Shoe

The boys called him “Jack the Ripper” behind his back. They weren’t supposed to be mean to him because he was important to Benjamin and his plan, but the nickname was too good to pass up.

Michael assured Max and Roisin that Jack Blackfriars was not Jack the Ripper. The killer was, however, one of Benjamin’s grandsons. The Ripper was eventually killed in a fight with his sire, Bjorn, who was angry at his son’s stupidity.

It wasn't clear exactly how many sons and grandsons Benjamin had. Roisin and Max didn’t ask. Vasiliy and Geoffrey were the only really important ones.

The brood was culled mostly from Central and Eastern Europe with a few exceptions. Max was the only American; Roisin was the only Irish. They were too difficult to control and exceptionally impulsive, so Benjamin didn’t have any Irishmen in his pack. 

They were all massively disappointed with Roisin, the young ones mostly, because she would be no fun at all. 

The youngest of Benjamin’s bunch were a set of fraternal twins from Hungary, Laszlo and Istvan, who spoke almost no English and spent their free time playing Call of Duty. They were made at least five years before, but they were still too volatile to be sent out on errands for their grandfather. 

They were also the most annoying.

Max broke one of Istvan’s fingers in the first week he was there because he was pestering Max about something or other which sent him into a rage.

Ro and Max stopped making an effort to socialize after that. Most of their uncles and cousins were creeps or exceptionally irritating, so they decided to spend time with each other instead.

Max liked Ro because she reminded him of his sister. 

Megan lost all her hair due to chemo when she was twelve. She owned wigs in every color of the rainbow. 

She died when she was fourteen. Her favorite wig was blue. 

*

Jack’s muscles were deliciously sore in the morning, the kind of sore you feel after after a long, deep sleep during which you hardly move.

Roisin’s soft, comforting scent still hung in the air around him but his arms were empty. He didn’t like that.

He blinked against the sun, which stood at the very center of the sky. It was at least noon. Jack didn’t think he’d slept so late since puberty, certainly not since becoming a vampire.

The courtyard was utterly empty. Not even Lobero had stayed behind to keep Jack company.

He slowly drew himself to his feet, stretching and yawning as he did so. The sound of voices drew him to the servants’ dining room.

It was a simple, sunny room with a plain but well-built wooden table that curved at the edges. It was big enough to fit sixteen people at least.

Alain sat at the nearest corner with Philip on his lap. He was removing and replacing lemons from a serving dish to demonstrate subtraction.

Alain was a math whiz. His primary duty was to be everyone’s accountant and financial advisor. Even Baldwin took advice from him. 

He’d started prematurely greying by the time Marthe made him a vampire. He looked like he was a permanent fixture in some massive library. He had a substantial but well-groomed beard that Ransome would probably describe as “lumbersexual.” 

Today he wore a button down shirt and tie under a large cardigan. He’d taken to wearing red-rimmed glasses in recent years; centuries of squinting at complex sums in the dark had irritated his eyes. Matthew thought it was fascinating that vampires could physically deteriorate and put the servant through a fair few research tests.

“And how many lemons is that?” he asked.

Philip looked down at the fruit as though he were angry with it. Then his face lit up. “Three!”

“Well done, little lord.” Alain tickled the boy under the arms, making him shriek and laugh in equal measure.

“Pippy, be quiet!” Becca whined. She was practicing her alphabet with Marthe across the table. Now she would have to start all over.

“Morning,” Jack said brightly.

“Jack!” Philip jumped down from Alain’s lap and scurried over to his brother. “You’re asleep for _ ever _ .”

“No talking!” Becca cried. She was on the verge of losing her temper.

“Here, let’s practice elsewhere so your brothers can talk.” Marthe took Becca’s hand and collected the alphabet cut-outs from the table. She kissed Jack on the cheek as she walked past him.

“Good morning, Jack,” said Alain. He, like all the other servants, tried to call Jack milord when Diana and Matthew properly adopted him, but he thought it was a ridiculous formality and spent weeks insisting they simply call him by his name. Alain was the first to do so.

“Morning. D’you know where Roisin is?” Jack looked around the room. “Or Lobero?”

“Your friend went up for a shower a few minutes ago,” Alain replied. “Your dog escorted her up.”

The corner of Jack’s mouth pulled up into a smile. “What a gentleman. Eh, Pip?”

“Yeah!”

Jack took a seat across from Alain; Pip climbed up beside him. 

“Forgive me for asking,” Alain began, “but I don’t know how to address your friend.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do I address her by her Christian name, or should there be an honorific?  _ Miss _ , perhaps?” 

Servants were referred to by their first names, while family members were  _ milady _ and  _ milord _ and so on. It was unclear which category the girl fit into. 

“Just call her Roisin.”

Philip tried to mimic his brother. “Row-see.” He was still struggling to pronounce her name correctly.

“Roisin,” Jack said.

“Rosie,” Pip replied.

Jack smiled. “We’ll practice.”

“No more lemons,” Pip declared. He shook his head at Alain. “No numbers.”

Alain smiled. “All right, then.”

“We run around now,” he said, sliding to the floor. He toddled toward the door; he turned around when he realized no one was following him. “We run around!”

*

_ I met your children _

_ Oh, oh _

_ What did you tell them? _

_ “Video killed the radio star! Video killed the radio star! _ ” Roisin lathered her skin in time with the song

She was in a strange mood this morning. Part of her was giddy with excitement at her restored closeness with Jack; the other part of her was panicking. The giddy side was winning out, at least for now.

Jack’s proximity had an effect on her body, too.

The idea of sex used to freak her out and still did on some level, her experience with Benjamin’s sons not included Having another person inside of you - it just didn’t sound appealing. Her fingers did enough to satisfy her occasional need. She had too much shit going on in her life to even entertain the idea of dating.

She slept with Gerhardt Schultz when she was twenty-three partially because of her daddy issues and partially because she was getting to that age where it was weird if she was still a virgin. So she did it and cried for ages afterwards because she was disgusted by him and herself and the entire ordeal.

She never really, truly felt lust for another person until she met Jack. All she could think about when she first became a vampire was having him on top of her, inside of her, taking her every way and every where known to man.

Sex with Jack was different because even though he had some four hundred years of practice, he never made Roisin feel inexperienced. More importantly, he never made her feel vulnerable - at least not in a way that made her uncomfortable.

She knew it was odd to want the man who killed her, but she didn’t really care. She was wildly unhappy at home in Galway and now she was unhappy in Berlin. She didn’t mind what Jack had done because so far she liked it, and the gravity of her new situation hadn’t sunken in.

Roisin shut her eyes and rolled her head back. The water slowly broke down the tension in her shoulders. She imagined it was Jack’s fingers untying the knots in her muscles. She could nearly smell him.

She thought of all the times they slept together. He was always so passionate and urgent and raw and yet he never overwhelmed her or rushed. He did like to tease her, though. He once spent a full hour with his fingers inside and around her, bringing her to the edge of completion over and over and then taking it away.

She was putty in his arms then, totally malleable. She begged at first and then started shouting at him when he didn’t give her what she wanted. He started laughing when she grabbed his wrist and tried to force him to touch her the way she wanted.

She nearly passed out from the intensity of her climax when he finally granted it to her.

Roisin wanted to slip her fingers between her legs and soothe the rising ache there. Instead she turned the shower’s temperature knob all the way to the left until it felt like icicles were piercing her skin.

*

I reclined on the sofa in the sitting room, legs stretched out. Matthew sat at the other end and rubbed my ever-swollen feet.

“Is Jack the omega?”

Matthew raised his eyes to meet mine. “Hmm?”

“If our family is a wolf pack, you and I are the alphas and Jack is the omega. Isn’t he?”

Matthew shut the laptop. “Yes.” I frowned. “That’s not a bad thing. Omegas simply aren’t fighters; they’re friends. That is Jack. And omegas are generally the best like members of their pack. That’s Jack, too.”

“Members?” I asked. “There can be more than one omega?”

“Mates.”

My frown deepened. “If everyone holds the same role as their mate, that would make Phoebe the beta. I don’t think she’s the beta.”

Matthew took a deep breath. “Ranks are complicated.”

“And would Roisin be the second omega? She doesn’t fight, either.”

Matthew turned back to the task at hand and squeezed the tension out of my heels. He took a moment to reply. “Yes, I suppose she would be.”

I was silent for a moment. “Are they mating?”

He sighed. “Yes, I think they are. I think they would’ve been mated already, too, if Benjamin and his sons hadn’t separated them.”

“Do you think Jack’s ready for that? Mating is a paradigm shift. Do you think he can handle that? He’s so young, Matthew.

Jack was technically around four hundred and forty years old, but he was still a child to me - still in need of protection and shelter and guidance. I didn’t like the idea of him making such a life-altering commitment when he was still figuring himself out. I told Matthew so.

“No, he’s not ready, but I wasn’t ready for you either. I didn’t truly know who I was until we were in Prague and you had my children inside you.”

I smiled. “It took you that long?”

“I knew I loved you, of course. I just didn’t know myself well enough.”

I put my hand on his cheek; he twisted his face to kiss my palm. “We don’t choose who we fall in love with or when,” he continued. “God knows I didn’t choose with you.”

“How romantic,” I teased. Matthew leaned over and planted a soft kiss on my lips. “We ought to get going. It’s time to rescue Maman from the children.”

*

Becca lay on her stomach on the floor. Ysabeau sat near her - she still seemed elegant reclined on the ground - and moved Becca’s paper letters out of alphabetical order to test her when Matthew and Diana arrived.

“Hello!” Diana called as she and Matthew rounded the corner into the sitting room.

“Mamma!” Becca clamored to her feet. She seized her mother by the hand and dragged her over to her makeshift classroom without a hug or kiss for her father; she encouraged Diana to sit down by tugging her toward the ground; Marthe pulled over an ottoman. “Look, I do letters! Watch!” Ysabeau rearranged the letters into the proper order so Becca could recite them. “Daddy, you watch, too.”

She confused M and W but otherwise recited the letters with perfect accuracy.

Matthew applauded. “Well done.”

Pip, Jack, and Mop came in then. Lobero promptly collapsed on the ground, sides heaving, as soon as his master was inside. His paws and belly were smudged with dirt. Jack and Philip’s legs were splattered with mud and their clothes covered with grass stains but there were wide smiles on their faces. Jack crouched down so Philip could slide off of his back.

“Hi!” Pip crashed into his father’s legs.

“Hello,” Matthew replied. “Have you been a good boy for Granny?”

“Yes!” the child replied.

“Pippy, do letters!” Becca commanded, pointing at the construction paper cutouts before them. She climbed into Ysabeau’s lap to watch her brother fail. He was no good at letters.

“I don’t like letters,” he objected as Matthew set him down. “Letters are badder than numbers.”

Jack took off his muddy shoes and left them in the doorway. He crouched down beside Lobero and patted his back.. “I didn’t like letters either when I was little. Mum tried to make me learn but we were so mean to the teacher that he left.”

“That poor man,” Diana said, shaking her head.

“When you learned them?” asked Becca.

“Granddad made me learn,” Jack replied.

Ysabeau sat up straight and swung her head to look at her grandson. She always searched for new stories or information about her late husband. It made her feel close to him again.

“Philippe finally made you learn?” Matthew asked, eyes narrowed in thought.

Jack nodded. “He said I’d have to know how to read and write if we were going to write each other letters.”

“Letters?” Becca asked. “Like this?” she patted the cutout of an A.

“Like messages,” Jack said. “But they’re made up of letters. He said he would come and visit me when he could, but I should write him one letter a week so I could tell him how I was when he was far away.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably when he realized how focused everyone was on him and his words. “Where’s Roisin?”

“In the kitchen with Alain,” Marthe replied.

_ With Alain _ ? Diana thought to herself. Roisin was alone with a male vampire?

Jack shifted on his feet. “Can I tell the story later?” he asked Matthew.

“It’s your story,” his father replied. “You can tell it whenever you like.”

Jack’s gaze shifted to Ysabeau. She was the one he really needed permission from. Any story about Philippe belonged to her.

She smiled softly. “Of course, my darling. Whenever you like.”

“Thanks.”

Jack slipped out of the room and made his way toward the kitchen. Lobero, still panting from exhaustion, followed at a glacial pace.

Alain was pouring fragrant coffee from a French press when Jack came in. Roisin was seated on the little round table, legs swinging above the ground. Alain was talking about investments and savings accounts, tips on what Roisin should do with her money.

“I look after almost everyone’s money,” he explained. “I cared for Madame’s money for four hundred years until she came back for it.”

“Roisin,” Jack called softly. “Do you want to come for a walk with me?”

She nodded silently and slipped off the table.

Jack led Roisin out by the hand like he was worried he would lose her if he let go. They didn’t speak as they walked through fields and woods and they never let go of each other. 

Mop scouted out their route, running forward out of sight and returning to his master’s side over and over.

If there was a brook or a gnarled tree root in the way, Jack would wordlessly turn around, lift Roisin by the waist, and deposit her on the other side of the obstacle. Then they would continue walking just as before.

She wore an off-white linen skirt she found at a thrift store a few years back and a simple, airy top. She was barefoot, and her makeup and nail polish were subdued today. 

Jack thought she looked like a woodland nymph. He imagined chasing her through the woods, hair and skirts flowing out behind her as she dared him to catch her. He wanted them to joke and play like any other couple their age. Roisin wanted that, too. But it just wasn’t possible yet.

“You were alone with Alain. That’s good,” Jack finally said. “What’s changed?”

“Ysabeau and Marthe make me feel safe here.”

Jack’s heart sank. “You don’t feel safe with me?” He could understand why. But it still hurt.

Roisin shook her head. “It’s a different sort of safe. I can’t really explain.”

They stopped when they reached the ruined temple to the Goddess.

“It’s beautiful,” Roisin said softly. She was awestruck by the crumbling columns and varied wildflowers. “Are we allowed to be here?”

Jack nodded. “I come here to work all the time.”

Roisin smiled and inhaled deeply through her nose. She lay back on the grass and sighed, letting the sun warm her. Jack stretched out beside her.

She was rarely this relaxed around him, even in the brief but beautiful time that they were lovers. She never had the chance to be.

The first few months of her life as a vampire were dominated by hunger and confusion and lust. She couldn’t sit still for more than a few minutes at a time, and she got cranky if Jack was out of her sight for too long.

Benjamin came for her just as she was entering the fledgeling stage of her life. Her personality more or less returned to what it was before she became a vampire. She was calm and smiley and sweet then, and Jack knew that his feelings for her were far deeper than they had been for any other woman he had known or would ever know. 

He didn’t just want her physically anymore. The cravings were far deeper now: He wanted her soul.

But she was gone before he had the chance to tell her so.

Minutes passed with no change. “Are you asleep?” Jack asked softly.

“No.”

“You stay so still sometimes I think you must be.”

Roisin smiled, eyes still shut. “Then wake me up.”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He rolled halfway on top of her and brought his mouth down to hers in a gentle kiss. She responded sweetly, just as he knew she would. She tugged on his hair and ran her fingers over the stubble on his face and giggled when he made a sound of annoyance at her distraction.

He deepened the kiss and she responded positively, opening her mouth wider, holding his shoulders tighter. The air became heavy with the scent of their arousal.

His fingertips were just brushing against the marred skin on her inner thigh when she started to curl in on herself.

“No, Jack.”

He pushed himself up to look down at her. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her chin quivered slightly, but Jack didn’t think she would cry.

No one had violated Jack for a very long time - not since before he met Diana and Matthew. He was quite young when it happened and lots of his human memories were fuzzy, but he remembered those instances all too well. 

He understood how Roisin felt on some level. That same terror and helplessness still lived inside him, waiting for the right moment to surface. He hated that he couldn’t make those feelings go away for Roisin. He didn’t care as much about himself.

He rolled off of her and onto the grass. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Roisin climbed to her feet. “Let’s go back. We’ve been gone for too long.”

They walked back in silence.


	8. Chapter 8

_ Being with Benjamin and his sons wasn’t always terrible. The best thing they did was go to discos where everyone was high out of their mind and packed in together and feed. Most of the people didn’t even realize they were being bitten. _

_ They were supposed to only drink a little from one person and then move on to another to avoid attracting attention, but they weren’t very good at it. At least one person was drained dry whenever they went out, usually by Istvan or Laszlo, but it was easy to make the deaths look like something else - an overdose, suffocation, even being trampled underfoot by the other ravers. _

_ But the best part wasn’t just the free-for-all warmblood buffet. No. It was getting drunk and high and becoming one with the music and the flashing lights, just like all the normal people around them. _

_ Vampires could get high from smoking, snorting, or shooting up their drug of choice, but it was a thousand times easier to find some tourist on ecstasy and take a sip. _

_ Roisin didn’t miss Jack so much then, didn’t mind being held hostage in a concrete labyrinth. As long as she kept her focus on the movement, the music, the lights, the smell of cigarettes and sweat, she could push all rational thought from her mind and just have fun. _

_ She would be so enraptured that she didn’t notice Benjamin’s pack watching her with such intensity they may as well be licking her body. _

_ They weren’t interested in her as a person, no - they wanted her because they knew she was Jack’s, she was usually the only woman around, and she was strictly off-limits. They weren’t used to being denied by anyone, least of all their alpha. _

_ Benjamin believed in survival of the fittest and excellerated evolution. He rejoiced when the theory of eugenics was born because it perfectly captured his beliefs. But he didn’t give a shit about blonde people repopulating the earth or anything as banal as that.  _

_ The true master race would be one of creatures, specifically the offspring of vampires and witches.  _

_ Most of his brood didn’t give a shit about propagating the bloodline - they were just unstable (and usually violent) people that were enjoying a new lease on life. And they were all aggressively lusty.  _

_ Roisin knew all of this but she pretended not to to avoid having to deal with it all. And she told herself that what they made her do - what she did for them - it was only about survival. She should’ve died rather than do those things, but she did them anyway. _

_ So instead of facing reality, she went to clubs and got high and let her mind drift away from her body. _

_ And all the while, the pack would watch. _

*

The weather was near to perfect, so Carter opened up her bar’s patio so people could drink outside. Warm weather always lent itself to day drinking, which was something Gallowglass thoroughly enjoyed.

So did everyone else, and by noon the patio was packed.

No one was terribly chatty, thank God, but Gallowglass knew that was due more to the newspaper headlines than anything else.

There was another serial killer on the loose, according to the sensationalist news. The others said it was a drug deal gone bad or an animal attack. Some poor fuck in Riga had his guts torn out and most of his blood drained. A Latvian murder wouldn’t have made the American papers if it weren’t so gruesome and strange. The guy’s cats had been disemboweled too.

“Do you remember a couple of years ago when those vampire murders were going on?” Basil asked, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Wasn’t this intense,” a waitress said. Carter tried only to hire vampires of Irish descent, but this woman was a demon from Scotland. It was close enough to justify employing her. “They were gross and violent and all but nobody had their guts pulled out.”

“It’s not the same.” Gallowglass drank the last of his Corona and motioned for the demon waitress to bring him another. “Those are done.”

“How can you be sure?” the waitress challenged.

He could be sure because Jack was the vampire murderer, and only because Benjamin forced him into it. Now Benjamin was dead and Jack was safe with his family.

“I’m sure,” Gallowglass said.

“What about that psycho pack in Poland?” Basil said. “The group that kidnapped witches. I can see them doing something like this.”

Gallowglass twisted his signet ring on his pinkie. “Could just be a demon,” he said darkly. Lots of serial killers were, and most of them didn’t even know they were demons. 

The Congregation once estimated that only about a third of demons knew what they were; another creature had to diagnose them as such and then go on to explain all about creatures.

The waitress scowled. “Could just be a rando. Most demons don’t hurt people.”

“My money’s still on the Polish vamps,” said Basil.

Gallowglass shook his head. “They’re dead.”

“How do you know?”

“I was there.”

Silence fell over the whole patio. Most of the creatures in the area knew about Gallowglass, about his distinguished lineage, but it wasn’t openly discussed.

Basil narrowed his eyes. “That’s where I know you from. You’re a de Clermont.”

Gallowglass took a sip of his beer and didn’t reply.

“I doubt they’re  _ all _ dead,” Basil continued, picking up his paper. “You can be a psycho and still be smart enough to pick your battles.”

Gallowglass still didn’t reply.

Even alluding to Benjamin set him on edge, had his protective instincts running rampant. They’d all been hurt by him - Ro, Jack, Matthew, the children, Diana -

Gallowglass’s guts hurt just thinking about her.

There was only one thing he thought about, only one place he wanted to be: at Diana’s side. But she had a mate and children and only fraternal affection for him. It didn’t change anything. He loved her and he wanted to be with her. He didn’t know how much longer he could stay away.

*

The first thing I did when I got home was lie back on a chaise the size of a twin bed in the main room so my children could all meet each other for the first time.

Jack lifted Philip onto the bench beside me. Matthew offered to help Becca up but she insisted that she could climb up on her own. Eventually she did.

Matthew sat beside her on the side of the wide bench across from Jack and Philip. I lay in the middle so they could all get access to my belly.

“Can I?” Jack asked. He was just as excited as his siblings.

“Of course,” I said, stroking his cheek.

Jack looked to Matthew. He still worried about upsetting his father by touching me.

Matthew smiled. “You don’t need to ask my permission to say hello to your baby brother or sister.” Jack’s face lit up. “Do you remember how to do it?”

“Yes.” Jack delicately set his hand on the side of my belly - the same place Matthew had placed his hand when he first felt the twins move back in New Haven. He laughed when the baby fluttered against his hand through my stomach.

“I touch! I touch!” Becca shouted. “Daddy, help!” she demanded, holding her hand out to him so he could guide it onto my stomach. 

Matthew chuckled as he set her palm against my belly. “Gentle,” he reminded her.

She squealed with delight when the baby moved against her. Her voice was so loud and sharp that it hurt my ears. “It tickles!”

Philip started crying for no reason and tried to wriggle off the chaise.

“Come on, Pip,” Jack said, hauling his brother into his lap. “Say hello.”

“No! It’s scary!” he sobbed. “Mommy got a tummy ghost!”

Jack comforted his brother before either Matthew or I had the chance. “You were in there too. I felt you move. It wasn’t scary. You just wanted to say hello. And I promise he’s not a ghost.”

“Chickpea can’t see you so this is the only way to say hello,” I added. 

“Not scary,” Becca agreed.

Philip wiped his nose with the back of his hand and started to hiccup. 

“Come on,” Jack said. “We’ll do it together.” He put his hand over Philip’s and gently pressed into my flesh. 

Philip started giggling when Chickpea moved. “Baby!”

“See?” Jack said. “Not scary at all.”

“Daddy, you feel too.” Pip reached over me and yanked Matthew’s wrist so he could maneuver his father’s hand into place.

Matthew smiled softly at me as the twins started pressing their ears to my belly to see if they could hear the baby talk.

I never liked the idea of motherhood or the stereotypical nuclear family before I met Matthew, but now that I had it I couldn’t stand to live without it. Not that our family was stereotypical.

Chickpea decided to kick me with such force that I winced in surprise. Unfortunately, the baby’s foot collided with Becca’s face through my skin.

She started wailing. “Baby doesn’t like me!” she sobbed.

“Of course it does,” I said. “It was trying to give you a high-five. It didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She refused to be consoled. “No, no! Baby doesn’t like me!” She slipped off the bed and started off in her unstable toddler run toward the door. 

“No, Becca! Baby nice!” Philip assured his sister. He patted my stomach like he patted the top of our dogs’ heads. “See? Nice baby.”

“Hush now,” Matthew said with an amused smile on his face. He scooped her up and looked at her. “Poor little girl. What am I going to do with you?”

“How’d you like to watch a movie?” I asked. “Jack and Roisin can tuck you in. Daddy and I have to talk.” I gave Matthew a look.

No doubt he overheard Ysabeau tell me what happened in Latvia, and no doubt he thought it was another vampire.

We set the kids up in the home theatre and shut ourselves into our room to talk.

*

Roisin decided to walk back to Le Revenant from Sept-Tours and do some hunting on the way.

She didn’t want to be in France any longer. She didn’t even think she wanted to be in Europe. She wanted to just go home and go to bed and sort through her feelings in the morning. 

Everything was easier to face in the light of day. That’s what her grandmother used to say. And it always seemed to be true.

There was still more than an hour before sunset, but Roisin already had that sinking feeling in her stomach that she sometimes got when it was dark. Darkness was dangerous.

The lights were always on at Gallowglass’s place no matter what time of day. She liked that.

She introduced herself to Gallowglass because she knew he would feed and shelter her. Men like him needed someone to watch over and she needed to be watched over. 

Roisin didn’t give a shit if he would take her to Jack or tell her anything important or even speak to her. She didn’t give a shit about Gallowglass himself, either - not for a long time.

She was just surviving, and she told herself that justified whatever she did. She was always just surviving.

The sun was slowly going down. She just spotted the lights of Le Revenant when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Gallowglass’s contact picture - a surfboard painted to look like the Saltire - dominated the screen. She hit the green button.

“Gallowglass?”

“ _ Hey _ .”

“Is everything okay?”

“ _ Yeah. Just wanted to check in _ .” it was clearly only a half-truth. “ _ Did you see that shit in the paper today?” _

“No. I usually don’t read the paper. I haven’t got the energy to worry about all the world’s problems.”

There was a beat.

“ _ Where are you? _ ” He was asking if she was alone.

“In the woods near Le Revenants. I wanted to go for a walk. Maybe do some hunting.” she narrowed her eyes as something occurred to her. “You’ve never met Becca and Philip, have you?”

“ _ No _ .” Gallowglass suddenly sounded exhausted.  _ “I left before they were born. But I do want to see them. Eventually.” _

“Diana’s baby started moving,” Ro said after a moment. “Jack and the twins are saying hello now, I think.” They invited Roisin to join them, of course, but just the thought of one human squirming around in another made her gag.

“ _ That’s good _ .” His voice was sad but sincere. He loved the twins before they were born. Given the chance, he would’ve raised them as his own. And now he loved this baby, too.

Roisin sighed. “When are you coming?”

“ _ What _ ?”

“I know you’re just putting it off. You miss your family and they miss you too. Just come - at least for Marcus’s stag night.” She had yet to meet Matthew’s son but Jack was so excited about organizing his brother’s party that she knew the names of everyone who would be in attendance and most of the activities planned.

Gallowglass changed the subject. “ _ How are things with Jack? _ ”

“Fine.”

“ _ Now who’s lying? _ ” There was a smile in his voice.

“If you’re not going to talk to me about your family, I won’t talk to you about Jack.” She sounded angry. She was never angry. “I’m going,” she announced, and hung up the phone.

Jack was treading water in the moat when she saw him. Lobero supervised from the safety of the grass. 

“Hey,” Jack said. He wore only his underwear. He wasn’t muscular but there was somehow still definition on his chest, but no hair. It seemed strange that he could grow a full beard given enough time yet have no chest hair.

Jack’s warm smile pushed Roisin’s residual annoyance away. “Hey.”

“Do you want to swim with me for a while?”

“Sure.” she didn’t go upstairs to change into her suit, nor did she shed any of her clothes. She slipped into the cool water fully dressed.

“How was your walk?”

“Fine.”

“Not very chatty, are we?” Jack said with a teasing smile. 

He was at ease again as he had been before they kissed. The old Jack would’ve beaten himself up for days about going too far. He was much more stable now that he was with his parents.

Roisin sometimes thought that her reappearance hindered his progress. Sometimes she almost regretted coming and messing things up, but she just needed to see him to make sure he was okay.

“I’m tired.” it was true, just not the whole truth. “Are your parents putting the kids to bed?”

“They’re having a talk,” Jack said. “They put the twins in the theatre. I’m just taking a break from babysitting for a few minutes. The dogs are on duty.”

“You don’t want to watch TV with them?”

“No. I wanted to wait for you. Make sure you got home okay.”

“Thank you.”

Jack smiled. “You’re welcome. Mum and Dad are having a chat so I’m putting the kids to bed tonight. You should, too.”

“Okay.” She really was happy, she just couldn’t think of anything else to say. She was still distracted by her argument with Gallowglass. “Is it rude if I ask what they’re having a chat about?”

“There was a murder.” He swallowed. “Sort of like the murders that -” His breath hitched in his throat. He was thinking about what he did at Benjamin’s behest.

“Don’t.” Roisin’s voice was soft. She didn’t have it in her to talk Jack down tonight. She could hear the final song from  _ Sing _ in the background. “Let’s get the kids.”

Becca’s meltdown earlier had sapped the energy right out of her. She couldn’t even get off the couch. She just held out her arms and wiggled her fingers, silently demanding that someone pick her up.

Pip thought she was being terribly silly. Becca was too tired to fight back when he said so.

“You’re silly sometimes, too,” Jack said, taking his little brother by the hand.

“Yeah, but less silly.”

Roisin crouched down and hoisted the little girl into her arms. Ro’s damp hair hung in such a way that her neck was totally exposed; usually enough hair fell out of her braid or bun to cast shadows over the scars, but her wet hair stayed together down her back.

Becca blinked several times until her drooping eyelids focused on the exposed skin. “Ouchie, Rosie.” She gently pressed her chubby fingers to one of the scars on her nanny’s neck. “You get bit?”

The tension in the room was palpable. Philip was alarmed that she might be hurt and planted his feet firmly on the ground so Jack couldn’t tug him away. Jack was about to break the silence when Roisin finally answered.

“Yes,” she said simply.

“It hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Biting not nice,” Becca said thoughtfully. “Mamma say we gotta use words when we angry. No biting.”

Roisin smiled. “Your Mamma is right.”

“Yeah,” Pip said. “Daddy say Mamma is smart.”

“Isn’t Dad smart, too?” asked Jack.

“No,” Philip said with a shake of his little head. “Daddy silly. Like Becca.”

Becca wound her arms around Roisin’s neck and rested her head on her shoulder, ignoring her brothers’ conversation. “No more biting,” she murmured soothingly. She was  _ comforting _ Roisin.

“No more biting,” the nanny agreed.

Philip rode on Jack’s shoulders up to the bedroom; Becca fell asleep in Ro’s arms. She was as limp as a ragdoll as her nanny maneuvered her into her pajamas. Philip, on the other hand, refused Jack’s help, insisting he was a big boy and he could do it himself.

“Time for bed,” Roisin announced. She set Becca down in her bed and pulled the covers up to her shoulders.

“I not tired,” Pip complained. Apollo was already fast asleep, draped over the foot of Pip’s bed. “I’na story. Jack, story.”

Jack thought for a moment of what to say. “I know. A long, long time ago, when I was really little, I went looking for a unicorn.”

“Unicorns isn’t real,” Becca said softly. The idea of storytime reached through her haze and woke her because storytime was too fun to miss. “Daddy says so.”

Roisin was taken aback at that declaration. Most parents indulged their children, encouraging their belief in fairytales and Santa Claus and all those other things. Then she realized that Matthew and Diana didn’t need to encourage their kids to believe in magic. They were vampire-witch babies. They had enough magic in their lives.

“I was in the middle of Europe ‘cause Mum and Dad were going to meet the Emperor. My friends Pierre and Gallowglass took me on trips to the castle to see all the emperor’s treasures.” 

“Gallowglass is cousin, yeah?” Philip asked, eyebrows pulled together in concentration.

Jack nodded. “Yeah, like Ezio and Miyako.”

Philip was still unsure. “And Nuncle Baldwin is his daddy?”

“No, another of Dad’s brothers,” Jack said.

This ridiculous family.

Roisin would have to start writing everything down if she was ever going to remember any of it. She had enough trouble keeping up with their complex opinions on wine; the tangled web of the de Clermont family tree would certainly be even more difficult to understand.

She barely knew her own vampire genealogy - which, she supposed, was part of the de Clermont line, too. Jack made her and Hubbard made Jack and Benjamin made Hubbard and Matthew made Benjamin, and then Benjamin made a whole bunch of vampires and they made other vampires.

Jack started up again before the kids had a chance to ask anymore questions. He wove stories as easily as his mother wove spells.

He stopped the story right in the middle when he snuck away from Gallowglass to explore the guards’ rooms.

Becca pouted and insisted he ought to finish the story, despite the fact that she came in and out of sleep while he was telling it - there was no pill as good as a toddler tantrum to put a kid to sleep.

“You’ll just have to wait until next time.”

Roisin crouched by Pip’s bed and smoothed the covers over him. “Good night.”

“I love you, Rosie,” he said.

He might as well have punched her in the guts. His little declaration knocked the wind right out of her. 

_ Shit, shit, shit, shit _ .

Philip was about to start crying at what seemed to be her rejection when she finally replied.

“I love you, too, Pip.” She kissed his forehead and then Becca’s.

“You love me too?” Becca asked.

“Very much.”

“You love Cuthbert, too?” Becca held her teddy bear out to receive his fair share of affection.

“Cuthbert, too.” she kissed the blue bear’s forehead.

Jack said good night and turned the lights out and shut the door. Roisin was rubbing her forehead. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Ro said. “I just . . . didn’t.” She swallowed. 

She’d been telling herself all this time that she could leave, go back to California and her uncomplicated life there if things got to be too much. That wasn’t an option anymore.

“Will you walk me to my room?”

“Yeah, o’course.” 

She’d changed into some of Jack’s shorts and a t-shirt when they got out of the water. She kept them on as she threw back the plush white blanket on her bed and snuggled into the far side of the bed rather than the middle.

It was quiet for a while as Jack listened to her even breathing and gazed at her closed eyes. He turned around and reached for the door.

“Jack?”

She still lay on her back but her head was bent towards him. A little red tear slipped from the corner of her eye and landed with a soft thud against the feather pillow beneath her.

“Will you stay? Only for a little while.”

“Yeah. Course.” Jack stretched out beside her on his back, leaving plenty of space between him and Roisin. He deliberately lay on top of the covers, arms at his sides. “It’s all right if you want to leave,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to feel trapped. We can go wherev -”

Ro turned to look at him. “We?”

“ 'Course. I go where you go now.”

Ro turned her face back to the ceiling and shut her eyes. Her hand found Jack’s and she intertwined her fingers with his.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it!


End file.
